


Dreamer

by Gort



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hair Kink, Minor Character Death, Season/Series 04, Unethical Experimentation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-02 15:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6571654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy might dream of a normal college life but she got stuck with an annoying vampire instead. Spike’s found the Gem of Amara, but he won’t kill her and has taken to lurking around campus. Things go from bad to worse when they’re both captured by The Initiative and Maggie Walsh takes a special interest. Is Buffy crazy for relying on a vampire to help her put a stop to the professor’s genetic experiments, or is she discovering that normal might be overrated? </p><p>Begins at Harsh Light of Day before going AU. </p><p>Beta'd by sunalso</p><p>Fair warning: Spike starts out fairly evil and the Initiative stuff is grim but not too graphic. There is some creepy medical experimentation going on in here, but not for too long. No hair was harmed in the writing of this fic.</p><p>Updates are posted at EF before going up here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goodbye to Romance

It was a right beautiful day, Spike decided. He tipped his head up toward the sun and a feral grin crossed his face. It was a great day for killing. He set off across Sunnydale campus, whistling cheerfully.

It was the little hair flip that caught his eye. The Slayer was busy chasing some git across the quad who was obviously not interested in her, her expression confused and desperate. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder as though it would change the boy’s mind.

She looked miserable, he realized with glee. A welcome change from the last time he’d seen her; the night Harmony had almost ruined his entire scheme. The Slayer’s face scrunched up and he thought she might actually cry as the wanker she’d been talking to turned and walked away. Well, wasn’t this delicious. Angelus’ little castoff was getting her comeuppance at last.

“Well, that was pathetic,” Spike said, walking up behind her nice as you please. She was off her game, he noted, smirking as his fist made contact. He got her right in her perky little face. Bloody bint never saw him coming. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on his back. Over a hundred years it’d been since he could bask in its rays.

“Isn’t it a fantastic day?” Spike grinned. “Bird’s singing, squirrels making lots of rotten little squirrels. Sun’s beaming down in a nice non-fatal way. It’s very exciting, can’t wait to see if I’ll freckle.” He curled his tongue behind his teeth as he watched her try to get her bearings.

He was immensely enjoying her confused look. Finally _,_ she was going to have to give him the respect he bloody well deserved. He was the Big Bad. And she would never forget that again.

She was up and dancing with him in another moment. The sudden appearance of a stake managed to surprise him, even if he should have been expecting it. Where the little chit hid those things he never could suss out. Oh, he had ideas, but he was sure she wasn’t that kinky. He let her shove the wooden stick right into his heart, ignoring his reflexive fear. He clapped a hand over hers on the stake.

“Oh, do it again. It tickles. You know, in a good way,” he taunted. He felt a thrill run up his spine as the Slayer finally seemed to catch on, her hand trembling for a moment beneath his. This was going to be fun.

“The Gem,” she realized. He waggled his fingers right in her face, flaunting his brilliance. She’d never treated him like a proper threat, even though he killed two slayers and had done things so evil she’d never be able to imagine them. 

“Oh yeah, the Gem of Amara,” he confirmed. “Official sponsor of my killing you.” He let his fangs emerge. Yeah, this was going to be brilliant _._

He loved the fight in this one, all fire and golden hair flying about. She usually left her hair down, which wasn’t very practical, really, but he understood the need for a little extra flair. Plus, it was nice to look at, shiny and gleaming in the sun. He had a whole new appreciation for it now. He pinned her up against a lamppost and took a moment to inhale, breathing in the scent of her before she managed to get a good grip on his throat and he remembered: _Oh yeah, fighting to the death_. Maybe he’d steal a lock of it when she was dead.  

“Getting tired, Slayer?”

She answered him with a thrillingly decent punch. She was a feisty little thing. Still wasn’t quite what he’d expected though. For one thing, she’d been disappointingly quiet. No quips, insults or terrible puns.

“Xander, get out of here!” The Slayer’s eyes widened as she called out her warning too late. Spike could smell the fear wafting from her friend as the boy approached.

Spike rolled his eyes and took a moment to knock out the stupid man-child who dared interrupt before turning back to the Slayer. She seemed to be trying to catch her breath, staring at the vampire with more trepidation than anger. He was starting to feel like maybe she wasn’t enjoying this as much as he was and decided she needed a little extra incentive.

Spike smirked and drew himself up to his full height. It was a respectable one, even if he wasn’t stupidly oversized like Angelus. Besides, he’d shared women with his grandsire for decades and he knew the great poofter’s bait and tackle didn’t live up the hype. The joke was on the Slayer, really. Didn’t even lose her cherry to a real man.

“So.” Spike slid his hands down his chest towards his beltline. He had nothing to be ashamed of in the downstairs department. There was a reason Darla had let him live even though she’d hated him from the moment his dark princess had brought him home. Women of her proclivities had their priorities.

“You let Parker take a poke, eh?” He’d seen the boy blow her off and was surprised she’d even given that simpering fool the time of day. He was average, the vampire supposed, nothing special. Not like her. “Didn’t seem like you knew each other that well. What exactly did it take to pry apart the Slayer’s dimpled knees?”

“You’re a pig, Spike.”

Yeah, she was off her game all right. It was frustrating as hell. This was their day, their big going out bash and she was letting some little nobody muddy her head. Spike wanted to shake her until the only one left was him _._ Not some pathetic excuse for a boy.

“Did he play the sensitive lad and get you to seduce him?” Spike was baiting her now, waiting for the fire to make an appearance. “That’s a good trick if the girl’s thick enough to buy it.” Her kicks were barely landing. He frowned. This wasn’t right at all. Rage bubbled up inside of him.

“I wonder what you did wrong?” he asked, watching her closely. “Too strong? Did you bruise the boy?” She wasn’t meeting his eyes, her breath coming in short gasps. “Whatever. Guess you’re not worth a second go. Come to think of it someone told me as much, who was that?” He pretended to think, studying her face as it closed down. “Oh yeah, Angel.”

Spike leapt at her with a growl and she tumbled to the ground underneath him, letting him pin her down. He could smell her tears and it only made him angrier. How could she let that bleeding human throw her like this? She was the _Slayer._

He studied her as she lay there, not even trying to break the hold he had on her wrists. She’d turned her head so that he couldn’t see her face under her glossy hair. He shifted, anticipating her next move. She’d surprised him so many times. Nothing happened for a moment, but then, _oh then_ , she lifted her chin and he watched in disbelief as she bared her neck to him.

“Slayer,” he snarled in rage. She was ruining their big day. This wasn’t a triumph; it was a mockery of what they had. She used to see him and now it was like she didn’t even care whose fangs were at her throat.  He wasn’t just any vampire. He was the sodding Slayer of Slayers! Spike felt nothing but pure fury for the boy who’d done this to her. That fuckwit had used her and now she was _broken_.

“Slayer,” Spike hissed again, pressing his body against hers. He knew she could feel his arousal against her thigh. Christ, he was always so hard when they fought. Sometimes he wondered…but no, those were fantasies best left in the darkness where they belonged. Still, she didn’t stir, didn’t strike out at him with her fists or her sharp little tongue.

He heard her sniffle quietly and released her arms, sitting up so that he was straddling her hips. He worried one fang with his tongue. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. This was supposed to be the glorious day on which he killed his third Slayer. The greatest one he’d ever faced. And instead she’d given up because of some piddling human.

“Here now, Slayer,” he said, disappointed. “This is where you fight back.” She didn’t move. He heard her sniffle again.

Spike sighed and looked up, squinting into the sunlight. He forgot how damn bright this whole daytime part of the day was. He needed to invest in some sunglasses. Maybe aviator shades. He could be like those cops on the telly, except much better looking, obviously.

He looked back down at the silent girl under him. Maybe he should try again later. She probably just needed a day or two to realize how worthless that boy was. He cheered at the thought. And if he left her alive now she’d be mad that he’d beaten her, finally, and then he’d have her complete focus. Perfect. He was smiling again.

“Right then,” he said, nodding decisively even though she didn’t seem to be watching him. “Well, just remember that I beat you, Slayer, and I’ll be coming back to kill you when you’re feeling up to snuff again.”

That seemed to catch her attention. She turned her head slightly, peering out at him from beneath honey-colored strands. He never noticed before how many colors were in her golden hair. The sun helped make even her beauty more brilliant. He reached out and gently brushed her hair back from her face, the green gem glinting on his finger. At least she’d stopped crying.

He realized rather abruptly what he was doing and pulled his hand back, standing quickly. “See you around, Slayer. Looking forward to our next meeting.” He tested out a leer on her but she didn’t react. He sighed again, searching his pockets for his smokes.

“Well, I’m off,” he told her, lighting up. “Look me up when you’re ready to die.” He frowned. “Not like this though. A good death.” He nodded, satisfied, and walked away, passing her friend coming to on the sidewalk. He flicked some ash on the whelp for good measure and felt his spirits lift.

Still a good day, he decided. Decent spot of violence to start with and hopefully a good shag to close it out. He grimaced, remembering how he’d left Harmony, before perking up again. He was on a college campus wasn’t he? There would be dim little chits all over the place looking to prove their womanhood.

He grinned and strolled in the direction of one of the larger buildings. He had plenty to keep him occupied while the Slayer worked out her problems. And then they would have themselves a right beautiful last dance.

***

“Buffy?” Willow’s voice was loud in the dark room. Buffy rolled over and wondered what time it was. She’d probably missed dinner. Her eyes itched. She must look awful after crying most of the afternoon.

“Yeah?”

“I, um, brought you something.” Willow moved to turn on her desk lamp, thankfully keeping the light to a minimum. She handed Buffy a cup of formerly-frozen yogurt like an offering. “Sorry, it got a little melty,” Willow added sheepishly.

“Thanks.” Buffy sat up and attempted a smile.

“I’m going to kill Parker,” Willow said loyally.

Buffy shook her head and watched the treat drip off her spoon. “It’s not…there’s more.”

Willow looked concerned. “More?” Her eyes widened. “Oh! I, um, still have the pamphlets for the health clinic and I think they have emergency hours in case it’s like, an emergency, and…”

“It’s not that!”

“Oh, sorry.” Willow shut her mouth immediately.

“No.” Buffy felt like a complete jerk now. “I just meant, what happened _after_ Parker.”

Willow settled down onto her bed, crossing her legs and propping her head on her hands, waiting.

Buffy set the yogurt down on her nightstand, unable to find her appetite. “It was Spike.” Buffy took a deep breath. “We had a fight and…he beat me,” she said quietly.

“Buffy!” Willow looked horrified. “How?”

“He had the Gem, the one Giles was talking about the other day.”

Willow shifted on the bed. “Ok, but then what happened? He…left?”

Buffy nodded. “He did. He just took me by surprise you know, all out in the daytime.” She frowned. “His hair is even more radioactive in the sun, believe it or not.” Willow gave her a small, anxious smile. Buffy tried to smile back. “Anyways, we were fighting, and he was…being Spike and after the whole Parker thing I just- It hurt and I was tired and he beat me.”

Willow watched her for a minute. “And then he left?” she repeated, confused.

Buffy knew the feeling. She shrugged. “Yeah.” She bit her lip. “He said…he said he’d come back and kill me later.”

“What?” Willow voice was panicked.

Buffy winced and decided to skip the part where Spike said all the weird stuff about fighting her when she felt better. Especially because Buffy would swear that while the vampire was busy giving her that strange speech she could feel his erection against her leg, which was wig-worthy to the extreme. Willow so didn’t need to know about that. And Buffy was never telling anyone about the hair petting. The whole thing was bizarre. Spike had acted like he was worried about her, which was insane. He was an evil vampire who’d been trying to _kill_ her.

“We have to tell Giles,” Willow said. “Maybe there’s something we can do about the Gem thingy. Like, a spell or something.”

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed. “Can we do it later?”

Willow looked at her sympathetically. “Sure.”

Buffy went to wash the remnants of her afternoon tear-fest off her face and wondered what was so very wrong with her. Her mouth turned down again but she didn’t think she had any tears left to cry.

When Angel had left she’d thought she would never recover from her heartbreak. She’d loved him with everything she had but it still hadn’t been enough to make him stay. He’d walked away without even giving her a chance to make things right.

And Parker, well, she hadn’t loved him, but she thought she could have. He’d been funny and sweet and his eyes were a soulful dark-brown, just like Angel’s had been.

Being with Parker had woken up that tiny spark of hope that someone might find her worthy of their love. He’d been attentive right up until Buffy had joined him in bed and then, suddenly, it was all about him. She’d only had sex once before, so she’d just assumed he knew what he was doing. The night had gone from mediocre to bad in a steady decline, starting with his perfunctory groping and ending with him not being able to…finish. She’d tried so hard to be careful, to be normal for him, but she was pretty sure she might have accidentally squeezed him a little too hard when he was inside her.   

Buffy felt tears threatening again. She’d been so hopeful in the morning when he’d brought her coffee. She’s promised herself she’d be better next time. She was going to lay there and be a good, gentle, _normal_ girlfriend. Instead he’d moved on without a second thought, looking for someone better than her; someone who wouldn’t bruise his manhood and make him wilt like a leftover party balloon.

She was a failure and no one was ever going to love her. It was so obvious even Spike knew. She was so pathetic an evil vampire felt sorry for her. She should never have tried to have a normal life. Everything hurt too much.

Buffy made it back to her room and slowly changed into her pajamas. Willow’s head was bent over a thick textbook and the redhead had three different colored highlighters in her hand. Buffy sighed quietly and moved to crack open the window, staring blindly out into the quad. For a moment she thought she saw a tiny orange glow in the shadow of a spreading oak tree. It didn’t appear again and she climbed into bed, hugging a pillow to her chest and curling up around it, pretending she wasn’t alone. 

***

Compared to any other day, Spike decided, this should have ranked as one of the best. Instead, his fight with the Slayer had left him irritated and unsatisfied. That little bitch had really thrown a wrench in his plans.

He’d meant to be on his way after his triumphant win over the Slayer. Maybe he’d visit Angelus and fuck with him a bit, or even find out where Dru was so he could remind her of what she’d thrown away. Not that he’d take her back, not after she’d humiliated him so thoroughly, but it would be fun to taunt whatever piss-poor excuse for a demon she’d taken up with now.

Even that stupid bint he’d picked up in the coffee shop hadn’t perked him up, despite the espresso flowing through her veins.  Oh sure, she’d been a decent enough shag and she had a not-terrible music collection—some of which he’d be nicking later—but she’d tasted all wrong. Her blood had a tang that reminded him of paint thinner with an undertone of cloves. He‘d had to have a smoke immediately afterward to rid his mouth of the unpleasant flavor.

It was a stroke of luck that she had a single room all to herself. It meant that after he got rid of some of the artsy shite she’d left lying around he had a decent place to crash. At least she was no longer cluttering up the place.

Yeah, it had been a pretty good day. He thought he might have even gotten a bit of sunburn because his nose was feeling slightly warm to the touch. But he wasn’t happy and it was the Slayer’s fault.

He scowled up at the water-stained ceiling of the dead girl’s room. Maybe he should have just killed the damn Slayer and gotten on with his unlife, but he would always know he hadn’t really won, not when she’d practically offered herself to him. Her heart had been racing, her blood pumping so sweet and hot through her veins. He imagined she tasted like ripe fruit picked on a summer’s day. Sweet and succulent with the tang of captured sunshine.

He sighed a little wistfully before shaking his head. He’d get his taste soon enough. More than likely by tomorrow she’ll have realized that loser wasn’t worth her tears.

Plus he’d lifted a nice pair of aviators from some oblivious bloke earlier so the sun wouldn’t get in his eyes again and he could properly appreciate watching her fight in the light of day. He adjusted himself in his jeans. Right, he’d have a good wank and then he’d go check on the Slayer, make sure she was all tucked in nice and snug. Wouldn’t do to have her all worn out for their final confrontation.

Spike let out a sigh as he unbuttoned his trousers and curled his hand around his slowly hardening cock. The little coffee-shop girl had been blonde, but it just hadn’t been the right shade, no matter how much he’d squinted.

He closed his eyes and remembered how the Slayer’s lovely golden hair had smelled when he’d pinned her against the lamppost. His arousal was strong and proud now as he worked himself with his hand, twisting and stroking with just the right amount of pressure. He moved his thumb over the head of his cock and thought about how those locks had bounced and shimmered in the bright sun.

Her hair had been so soft as it slid through his fingers before he’d left her there on the ground. He wondered what it had looked like when she was all hot and bothered and writhing on that prat’s cock. Maybe she’d ridden him, throwing her head back and letting that glorious mane tumble down towards her pert little ass, some of the strands sticking to her body, glistening with sweat as she moved.

He spurted his release into his hand with a long, low groan and lay there for a moment afterwards, idly wondering what kind of shampoo the Slayer used.


	2. See You on the Other Side

Buffy had almost made it all the way back to her dorm room when someone called her name. She turned and saw one of the girls who lived down the hall waving at her. Ten more steps and Buffy would have finally been able to collapse. She ached for the comfort of her bed. Sighing, she tried to remember the blonde girl’s name but came up blank.

“Hey,” Buffy attempted a smile and shifted the books in her arms. God, she just wanted to curl up in her pajamas and watch some really bad television. She was so tired and heartsick and ready for another good cry. The sun was going down, that counted as the end of the day, right?

Buffy felt like she really didn’t deserve to be kept from her meager comforts after she’d managed to slog through her classes. She’d even let Willow drag her to the cafeteria, where of course she’d had to endure watching Parker and his stupid Angel-eyes fawn all over some girl she’d never seen before. Parker hadn’t even glanced in Buffy’s direction but she hadn’t been able to stop looking at him. She was completely unlovable, she’d decided despairingly.

“Hi,” the blonde chirped, stopping in front of Buffy. “I’m not sure if you remember me. Megan.” She pointed to herself and smiled. “You just missed your boyfriend.”

Buffy felt her heart soar painfully. Maybe she’d been mistaken about earlier. “Parker?” 

Megan shrugged. “He didn’t say. But oh my god, you are _so_ lucky. His accent is so sexy! Where is he from? Does he go here? I’ve never seen him around before and he looks kind of older. Is he, like, a transfer student or something?”

Accent? Older? Buffy was confused. Parker didn’t have…oh god. Buffy closed her eyes for a moment. “Um,” she interrupted Megan, who was still extolling the virtues of Buffy’s imaginary boyfriend. “Pale, bleached blond, wears a lot of black?” 

Megan gave her a skeptical look. “Um, yeah? How many boyfriends do you have?”

“None,” Buffy replied dully, all hope gone. She felt so stupid. Of course Parker hadn’t come to look for her, just the newly-invincible vampire who wanted to kill her. Such was her life.

Megan seemed surprised at her answer. “Really?” She gave Buffy a long, calculated look. “Um, you guys didn’t just, like, break up or anything did you?”

Buffy stared at the other girl in confusion. “What? No! Spike is…ugh.” She shook her head. “He’s bad news. You should stay away from him.”

“Spike?” Megan looked thrilled at this piece of information. “And god, jealous much? Sorry I even bothered.” She tossed her hair, turned her back on Buffy and headed down the hall.

Buffy sighed and went into her room. She dumped her books before looking out the window. The familiar bleached head of hair out in the quad was hard to miss. She was so tired and now she had to go fight Spike. She halfheartedly rummaged through her weapons before settling on the same two stakes she always took with her on patrol and headed out again.

“Spike,” she said, coming to a halt in front of him. He was basking in the fading light of the sunset, his face tipped up toward the sky. His duster was draped over the bench next to him and his pale arms were stretched across the backrest. For a brief second Buffy almost recognized what Megan might have seen in him. And then, of course, he opened his mouth.

“Slayer.” He grinned at her, eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses that looked a lot better on him than should be allowed. “Ready to die?”

“Sure,” she said, trying to muster up some enthusiasm. “You?”

Spike frowned at her, lifting up the sunglasses to perch them on top of his head. His cheekbones and his nose were slightly pink, making them even more prominent. Buffy hated that even that was kinda working for him. She felt like ten kinds of roadkill after both the fight yesterday and the Parker thing yet here the vampire was, looking fresh as daisy. Wasn’t he supposed to be the dead one?

“What now?” he said, sounding irritated.

“Nothing?” She really wasn’t sure what he was asking.

“Oh, Christ,” he sighed. “Still moping over your failed love affair?”

Buffy opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. “Shut up.” She finally decided on.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, really giving me a run for my money with that one, Slayer.”

Buffy put her hands on her hips and reminded herself that this was her job. “Are we going to fight?”

Spike snorted. “Well, I might. You’ll probably just roll over and play dead again.”

“Hey!”

“Saying you won’t?”

“I…” Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “It’s been a bad day,” she grumbled. To her _mortal_ _enemy_. Oh god, she was the worst Slayer ever.

Spike sighed and slipped the sunglasses back on his face. “Well, might as well park it then.”

“What?”

“Have a seat, you daft cow. I’m not going to sit here and watch the sunset by myself. So unless you want me to go find that stupid moon-eyed girl in your dorm to bring out here and snack on, sit down.”

Buffy sat. Megan probably would have enjoyed it too much anyways. She was silent as she watched the sun sliding toward the horizon, her hands tucked between her knees and her back ramrod straight. She watched the vampire out of the corner of her eye, wondering what the hell he was trying to accomplish. This was getting a little weird again. Spike just stared straight ahead, his face unreadable.

“He’s not worth it, you know.” Spike said into the silence.

“What?” Buffy felt like maybe she had fallen into bizarro-land.

“That git you’re all miserable about.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied hesitantly. Maybe Spike had actually killed her yesterday, because this world was making no sense to her anymore. Was he trying to give her advice? Before they fought to the death? This was possibly stranger than the time she got turned into a rat because of Xander’s love spell. Or when the college boy she thought liked her tried to sacrifice her to a giant snake-demon. Or…god, her life was so totally messed up.

She could feel Spike’s fingers toying with the ends of her ponytail. She thought about saying something, but honestly, it felt kind of nice and she wasn’t sure he realized he was doing it. She leaned back and let herself relax a little.

“How about tomorrow, pet?” he said conversationally.

“Sure,” she said, still carefully watching him. He was the strangest vampire she’d ever met.

“Excellent.” His smile was reminiscent of the lions at the zoo. The big cats looked so cuddly, and then they would yawn, revealing all their teeth, and reminding visitors of what they were capable of. She shivered. Spike’s hand stilled on its track through her hair and he dropped it back to the bench. “I’m not going to wait much longer.” He sounded annoyed.

“I didn’t ask you to.” Buffy was annoyed herself. If he wanted to fight they could fight. Why did he care about how she was feeling? He wanted her dead, for god’s sake. The sun was gone now, the horizon turning purple as the first stars came out. She stared for a moment, but couldn’t bring herself to wish for anything. Why bother when she knew it wouldn’t come true? She stood up. “I’m leaving.”

“See you tomorrow, Slayer.”

***

Spike flopped back on the bed of the dead girl and sighed. Three days now. Three days and the Slayer was still in a funk. Her fire was gone and he wanted it back so he could snuff it out himself. That boy wasn’t worthy of her, hadn’t even known her, for fuck’s sake.

Every evening Spike had visited the Slayer to see if she was back to herself so they could have themselves a glorious fight, and every evening was the same. She was mopey and distant and she would hardly look at him, goddammit. And he wasn’t bad to look at, he knew for a fact. He had pictures.

He’d wait on their bench after classes and she would march out to meet him, her face resigned. He assumed she had her stakes with her, but they never made an appearance. 

They’d watch the sun slip below the horizon and the Slayer always sat just close enough for him to reach that lovely, shining hair. The first night it was in a ponytail and he hadn’t even realized he was touching it until she’d leaned into his hand. He’d decided that gave him tacit permission. Besides, he’d be taking some of it when she was dead. It was as good as his already.

The other nights she’d left it loose, and he liked to think that was for him, but more likely she was still trying to catch the eye of that cockup who’d thrown her over. Spike saw the little weasel sometimes while he waited for the Slayer’s classes to end. The boy certainly was busy; it looked like he was aiming to disappoint half the woman on campus by the end of the year.

The second night while the vampire had waited that little Megan chit from her dorm had come flitting out and tried to sit in the Slayer’s spot. Her voice was grating and Spike had almost killed her immediately, but he was waiting for Buffy.

“Seat’s taken,” he’d told her.

The dumb bint had giggled and batted her lashes. “I thought you might be saving it for me.”

“No.”

She’d started looking a bit perplexed then. She was cute enough, and she was probably used to the giggle and eyelash combo working on college boys. Spike had almost flashed her a little fang just to hear her blood race but he had to be patient. He was waiting for the Slayer. 

“Um,” the girl had said hesitantly, “Okay, sorry. Buffy just told me that you, you know, weren’t together or anything.”

“What?” Spike was surprised for half a second before he’d smiled wolfishly at the nervy little thing in front of him. “Ah, well, she’s a bit of a hard nut to crack, our Buffy.”

He’d watched the girl struggle to suss him out. Yeah, she would be easy. He’d have to keep her in mind for later. “There’s a party Friday night, for Halloween,” she’d said finally.

“What’s your costume, then?” He’d given her a little leer. She’d taken it well, back on familiar ground.

“Guess you’ll have to come and see.” She’d shot him a cheeky smile and continued into the dorm before turning for a moment. “Buffy’s going too.” Well, that would make it worth his while.

He’d thought Buffy was going to ask him about the other girl when she’d finally appeared, but the Slayer had looked so weary they’d ended up not talking at all, his hand sliding silently through the soft strands of her hair while they’d watched the sun go down.

Every night the vampire went back to his newly commandeered room and brought himself off while he thought about that hair wrapped around his cock, his seed coating her sweet little face.

Spike considered the pathetic little Casanova the Slayer was still pining after and frowned, staring at the ceiling. It was a shame she didn’t seem to know how bloody incredible she was, and she never would if she kept picking such utter wankers. That boy was beneath her and she was letting him drag her down. Maybe she just needed a bit of help getting over the idiot. The vampire sat up on the bed, buttoning his jeans. He wasn’t just going to sit around forever, waiting for her to pull herself together. He’d already told her as much.

***

It was the screaming that woke her up. Buffy almost rolled onto the floor trying to untangle herself from her blankets. She’d been dreaming about something nice that was already slipping from her mind, although her scalp was tingling pleasantly.

“Willow?” she asked in confusion. The clock next to her bed told her it was ungodly early in the morning.

Willow was also up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The screaming had stopped, but there was obviously a lot of commotion going on in the hallway. Buffy pulled her tangled hair back in ponytail and tucked a stake into the waistband of her pajamas.

“Ready?” Willow asked, looking awake now, her hand on the doorknob of their room.

“Yep,” Buffy said.

She was so wrong.

She could never have been prepared for Parker’s body to thump down into their room as Willow pulled the door open.

His eyes were empty and glassy and they didn’t look like Angel’s at all. The gaping wound on his neck was her first clue. The cigarette ground out on the carpet in front of her door was the second. Buffy couldn’t look away from Parker’s slack face. Dried blood was crusted on his torn throat and against their dorm room door.

A girl from down the hall was sobbing in the arms of her friend and someone else was blubbering into the emergency phone mounted on the wall in the hallway.

“Oh my god, Parker.” Willow covered her mouth, horrified.

Buffy kept staring, her blood turning to ice in her veins. “Spike,” she whispered. 

The rest of the morning was a blur. Parker’s body was taken away and the hall was emptied of students. There was a spontaneous, makeshift memorial being started on the bulletin board in the lounge with flowers and pictures and cards. Her stomach was roiling with dread and guilt, making Buffy want to vomit. This was all her fault. Willow sat quietly with Buffy on an uncomfortable communal couch until everyone was finally gone. “Have you seen Spike since…?” Willow trailed off.

“Yeah,” Buffy said quietly. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told Willow about meeting Spike every night for the last few days. Except that it was totally _weird_. Who else met their mortal enemy for sunset watching and a good hair stroking? She was losing her mind.

Willow looked startled. “When?”

Buffy shrugged. “Out in the quad sometimes.”

“Buffy.” Willow gave her a concerned look. “You need to be careful. We haven’t been able to find anything to counteract the Gem.”

“I know,” Buffy replied. She curled up against the couch cushions and tried not to think of the hollow sound Parker’s body had made when it hit the floor. Before, she might have thought he’d been left as a warning or a threat. But now, after all the things Spike had said about her and Parker, she had the frightening feeling that he was supposed to be a gift. And she was almost grateful. She could taste bile in the back of her throat. She should have killed Spike or let him kill her so that he would leave and everyone would be safe.

“Oh, Buffy.” Willow leaned over and hugged her. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” Buffy said quietly. She hoped Willow was right.

Buffy hardly remembered getting through the rest of the day, and when she’d tried to beg off going to the Halloween party Willow had looked so distressed that Buffy had changed her mind. She could always slip out when the others were occupied.

Spike wasn’t sitting on the bench that evening. Buffy wasn’t sure if that was because he knew she would stake him the moment she saw him—not that it would do any good—or because it was Halloween and he was indoors like all the other demons.

Buffy watched the sunset by herself and thought about all the things that had happened since she’d become the Slayer. Sometimes she wasn’t sure that anything she did really made a difference. It almost seemed like her presence actually made things worse, like in the case of poor Parker.

Leaving a body for her to find was something Angelus would have done, except he wouldn’t have chosen Parker. Leaving Parker alive would have been a greater torment for Buffy, and Angelus would have reveled in that. The fact that Spike had chosen to kill this particular classmate was puzzling. Parker’s rejection had hurt her deeply and Willow’s advice had been to simply forget about him, but to Buffy that was the entire problem. How could Parker just forget about her after what they’d shared? Buffy shook her head in frustration. This was getting her nowhere. Parker wouldn’t ever be able to explain or apologize to her anyways, not anymore.

A group of guys went by in fatigues and she figured it must be almost time for the party. The frat houses always went all out. She headed back to her room to get dressed, hoping for an uneventful night.


	3. Mr. Crowley

“What are you supposed to be?” Megan, the dumb blonde from Buffy’s dorm asked, batting her eyelashes. The girl was wearing a coconut bra that she filled out decently and a grass skirt through which he was catching glimpses of a bikini bottom. Spike was really starting to love college.

“Vampire.” Spike smirked at her. The little idiot of a human giggled and clutched his arm.

“Ooooh,” she cooed. “Are you going to bite me, Mr. Vampire?”

“Might,” Spike replied absently, scanning the room again. The Slayer hadn’t made an appearance. “Thought you said the Sl- uh, Buffy was coming to this little soiree.” 

The blonde pouted and pressed her coconuts against him. “She knew that dead guy,” Megan said dismissively. “She was pretty upset. Did you hear about that? He was like, killed in our dorm by a wild animal or something.” She shuddered delicately, making sure to wiggle her chest. “Let’s forget about her. She’s nothing special.”

Spike growled at the stupid bint, making her step back in surprise. The Slayer was worth more than all of these morons put together. He’d thought Buffy would see that once the boy, who’d been too stupid to appreciate her, was gone. “Bloody humans,” the vampire muttered.

The blonde had released his arm. “Um,” she said hesitantly. “I’m going to get a drink.”

“Knock yourself out.” Wasn’t much of a challenge there anyway. He liked his girls fiery and bright. Spike frowned. Dark and vicious, he meant. Besides, her hair was the wrong shade. He took a deep drink of whatever watered-down excuse for alcohol they were serving and watched the doorway.

He was sure, once she’d had a chance to think about it, that the Slayer would be grateful for his intervention. Maybe grateful enough to let him have a lock of her hair _before_ she was dead. That Parker pillock had been nothing but a nuisance, interfering with the Slayer’s ability to focus on the important things—namely, Spike himself.

Besides, the boy had been a complete moron and a pathetically easy kill. The vampire had found Parker down at the local pub attempting to charm yet another vapid conquest. Watching him had made Spike want to heave. It had been laughably easy to follow the boy as he’d stumbled home and it’d only taken one punch to put him down. Slayer’d been completely wasting her time with such a weak little tosser.

Surprisingly few people had noticed the vampire striding across campus with a body slung over his shoulder, heading for the Slayer’s dorm. Sunnydale really was the most willfully ignorant town he’d ever had the pleasure of hunting in. Parker had begun stirring just as they’d reached the Slayer’s room, the prat’s timing perfect. Spike had dumped the boy in the hallway and grinned as he’d slipped into his demon face. Parker hadn’t even had time to scream, which Spike assumed would have sounded the same as a prissy little girl’s. After draining him and carefully propping him up so that the Slayer would be sure to see him first thing, Spike had taken a moment to have a smoke. The git had tasted of cheap liquor and cheaper cologne and Spike was glad to be rid of him. Just like the Slayer would be, he was sure of it.

So where the hell was she?

Spike finished his drink, still ignoring the blonde in the hula skirt. She was sulking over by the party games and fawning over some of the other boys, trying to catch his attention. The vampire rolled his eyes. But then she started screaming, her hands full of real, human eyeballs instead of peeled grapes and Spike grinned, going to fetch a fresh beer. Night might turn out to be interesting after all.

***

Buffy clutched her basket close, wishing she was back in her room, in her nice warm, comfortable bed. She was starting to wonder if her costume struck a little too close to home. She’d been feeling more and more helpless lately, and Spike could definitely stand in for the big bad wolf. Where was a nice woodcutter when you needed one? Oh yeah, that’s right, they’d all moved out of town or _died._

“What’s in the basket, little girl?” Xander asked, sounding way too cheerful. He looked good in his tux, though his newest fling was something Buffy had trouble wrapping her head around. At least he seemed happy with that particular demon-woman. Former demon-woman? Buffy would let them sort out Anya’s demon-status. She had her own demon-related disasters to deal with first.

“Weapons,” she replied absently. Xander looked surprised, even after all these years of helping her slay things in unexpected places. She almost rolled her eyes but couldn’t find the energy. She hoped this party was as big as Oz had claimed, that way she could sneak off and no one would miss her.

“You don’t think…” Xander looked around, suddenly nervous. “Spike wouldn’t show up here, would he? It’s Halloween! Isn’t there like a no demons allowed rule? ”

This time Buffy did roll her eyes. Her friends seriously didn’t understand how weird that particular vampire was. “Because Spike’s so into following the rules.”

“What’s that?” Xander whirled around, panicked, when something rustled in the bushes, but it was only the guys dressed in camouflage again. He and Buffy watched them cross the street with their pretend weapons. “Well, at least if we get turned into our costumes again we’ve got backup.”

Oz and Willow’s arrival put an end to further speculation about Spike, as Willow tended to avoid mentioning the vampire’s name. Especially since the Parker incident. Buffy knew Willow meant well, but listening to her friend’s bright chatter as they headed toward a party was making Buffy’s head hurt.

When would they realize that Parker’s death was her fault? Spike had killed Parker because she hadn’t managed to dust Spike. Why the vampire hadn’t killed her, either, was still a mystery, despite all of Spike’s rambling about her moping and Parker not being worthy of her. There was no way the vampire actually meant any of that. Demons weren’t supposed to be capable of empathy, not without a soul.

Buffy glanced at her friends out of the corner of her eye as they walked together. They’d all assumed she’d gotten over Parker immediately, but Spike hadn’t. An evil vampire had not only noticed her misery, but might have—in totally freaky way—tried to cheer her up. She seriously wasn’t sure how to take it, and she was afraid if she brought it up her friends might think she was nuts.

 “I like your costume,” Willow reached out and linked arms with Buffy, giving her small smile.

Buffy tried to smile back. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad you came. Aren’t we glad she came, Oz?”

Oz simply nodded, holding Willow’s other hand. Buffy felt a twinge of jealousy that she immediately stuffed down deep inside. They both deserved to be happy and she shouldn’t begrudge them that just because her relationships always ended in disaster. And death. Maybe she needed to give up dating altogether.

“My first college party.” Xander rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Wait, should I not have brought a date? Was I supposed to pick up a drunk girl and regret it in the morning?” Willow shot him a frantic look and jerked her chin at Buffy, who pretended not to notice. Xander and shoved his hands deep in his pants pockets. “Uh, I meant, _she_ would regret it in the morning. Or…” he trailed off, giving Willow a panicked look.

“This is the best Halloween party on campus this year!” Willow announced, her voice determinedly cheerful. “Right, Oz?”

“It definitely has the best sound system,” Oz said, shrugging.

Buffy barely listened as Willow babbled on, filling the silence with Joan of Arc’s life story. Buffy wondered if that was what her friends thought of her, that she was just some dumb girl who’d picked the wrong guy to go home with the night she’d slept with Parker. Her shoulders slumped dejectedly. They didn’t understand. Buffy thought she’d found someone special, that Parker thought _she_ was special.

The frat house came into view just as Willow started expounding on her theory that Joan actually was a real witch. There were surprisingly few people heading in, despite Willow’s earlier declaration. Xander flung the front door open with gusto, having apparently recovered his good humor. The foyer was just as eerily deserted and Buffy frowned. It certainly didn’t have the look of a raging party. Damn it, she was going to be stuck here for a while. She sighed quietly. She knew going to this party was a mistake.

***

The stupid actually-haunted haunted house had separated them all before dumping Buffy down into the basement. She attempted to gasp, but the air had been knocked from her lungs in the fall. She forced herself to relax and stared up at the open door she’d come though, trying to figure out how she was going to get back up there. She had no idea where the others were and she had to find them before someone got hurt.

“Are you lost, too?” a familiar voice asked her.

She looked over, feeling her lungs start to recover, and a frisson of fear ran through her. “Spike,” she gasped.

“What?” The vampire looked confused. His accent was different, more smooth and cultured. More Giles-y. Now she was confused. 

“Spike?” she tested again, propping herself up on her elbows.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Spike said in that strange manner. “Are you hurt, miss?”

“What?” Buffy was totally lost. She watched Spike’s eyes drift down towards her bare legs before quickly darting away. He looked embarrassed. She didn’t think she’d ever seen that expression on his face before.

“Don’t worry.” Spike smiled gently at her, which was even freakier than the new accent. “Surely someone will come looking for us. A lovely girl like yourself would be quickly missed, I imagine.” He stared down at his boots and clasped his hands in front of him bashfully.

Buffy’s mouth fell open. “Uh, sure,” she finally said. And then a gross, rotting hand erupted from the ground underneath her.

“Miss!” She heard Spike call, sounding _frightened_. God, what was wrong with him? Even if he wasn’t going to try and kill her, you’d think he’d at least enjoy egging on the zombie. Several more hands started popping up out of the dirt like the worst kind of garden she’d ever seen.

She concentrated on kicking at the hands grabbing at her legs and, ew _,_ one was getting a little too friendly with her upper thigh. _Gross_. She scrambled backwards and managed to get to her feet. A hand gripped her arm and pulled her into a small alcove. Buffy wrenched herself away and turned, her anger draining away as she took in the vampire’s expression.

Spike’s eyes were wide and fearful. “What’s happening?” he asked. “Am I dreaming?”

Buffy stared at him, not sure what to say. He seemed to be trying to avoid touching her even though the alcove was barely big enough for the two of them, her braided hair brushing against his shoulder every time she moved her head. “What’s wrong with you?” she blurted. 

He looked hurt, and she felt almost guilty for a moment. “I apologize, of course, I’m being quite forward.” He dipped his chin at her and pressed himself even further into a corner. “William,” he said.

It took a second for her to realize he’d just introduced himself. “Buffy,” she replied, perplexed. This was beyond weird. Spike smiled without a hint of his usual sneer and she caught herself staring at him in fascination.

“Buffy,” he repeated. “That’s an unusual name.” She nodded absently, scanning the basement for another exit. The zombie things were still trying to extract themselves from the ground. “Suits you, then,” she heard Spike say in his strange new William voice.

She glanced at him curiously. “How did you get down here?”

“Ah,” he said, looking embarrassed again. She found herself thinking it was kinda adorable and oh god, the house was really getting to her. “I’m not certain. There was quite a lot of screaming and I was attempting to extract myself from the grip of a very…um, strangely attired woman.” She saw his gaze drift down towards her legs again before darting away. She felt heat blooming in her cheeks. He seemed so innocent. “And then I opened a door and I was in this room.”

Buffy nodded thoughtfully, trying to will away her blush. She was being stupid. It was just the house making Spike all crazy, like the others. The zombies who’d managed to free themselves were heading in her direction. She could see a small door across the room from where they were.

“Was it that one?” she pointed. Spike frowned and squinted toward the door she indicated. He patted his pockets absently.

“I don’t think so, but I’m afraid I must have misplaced my spectacles, so I can’t say for certain. I believe it was a bit larger.”

Buffy giggled then, unable to help herself. The image of Giles’ glasses perched on Spike’s nose was too much. He looked at her warily. “Sorry,” she said, trying to recover herself. “I’ve just…never seen you wear glasses.”

He looked hurt again. Buffy reached out without thinking and patted his arm. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. He glanced down at her hand on his arm and smiled tentatively.

“It’s quite all right,” he said. He suddenly frowned and glanced down at himself. Buffy watched him slip out of his duster before holding it out towards her, looking hesitant. “And I should be the one apologizing. It’s quite damp down here and I wasn’t thinking.” He smiled softly. “My mother would be appalled at my manners.”

“Um.” Buffy stared at him, at a loss.

“Here,” he said, carefully sliding the jacket over her shoulders, “You need this more than I.”

The weight of the leather was heavy and solid. She could smell cigarettes and something faintly sweet. She automatically slid her arms into the sleeves, her fingertips barely visible. The bottom of it touched the ground. “Thanks,” she whispered, suddenly feeling shy herself.

Spike was staring at her with a strange look on his face. Almost like the one he’d worn when he brushed her hair out of her eyes on the day he beat her. The day he told her he would come back to kill her later. He lowered his eyes and looked away and the moment passed.

Buffy shook herself. Jeez, she did not have time to deal with a vampire having some kind of mental breakdown. She had to find her friends, and she had to get out of this basement and keep the house from killing more people.

She took a deep breath. “Okay, we have to get out of here,” she told Spike. Or William. Whoever he was now. “We need to get to that door.” She looked around the basement but didn’t see her crossbow.

“Don’t you think we should wait for someone to find us?” Spike asked nervously.

Buffy turned, exasperated, but his worried face made her pause. Instead, she reached out and took his hand. Spike’s eyes went wide. “We’ll make it,” she assured him. “Trust me.”

“You are very brave, Buffy,” he said quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

Buffy found herself smiling at him and squeezed his hand. “Same,” she said, and realized she meant it. “Ready?” Spike nodded, looking at the zombies anxiously. “Let’s go.”

Buffy had to release Spike’s hand as the zombies converged on them. There were so many and her punches didn’t seem to faze them much. She saw Spike shove one away from her, his face panicked but determined. The lumbering bodies seemed to be mostly converging on her. This was a surreal night, she decided. Buffy whirled around, punching an incoming corpse, and turned to Spike. He was standing nearby, his eyes fixed on her swinging braids. “Come on!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him the last few feet to the little door, kicking at a zombie trying to crawl though after them.

Buffy was panting as she slammed the door shut from the other side and turned to see where they were now. She looked around, confused. This didn’t look like part of a basement, or even downstairs. Spike was on his knees next her, shaking his head. “Okay?” she asked, putting a tentative hand on his shoulder.

He jerked out from under her and let out a growl. She pulled back, startled. He drew himself up and glared. “What the hell, Slayer?”

Buffy blinked at him and for a split second wished he was William again. In the next instant a loud whining noise cut through the silence and then Giles was standing in a makeshift doorway he’d cut through the wall with a chainsaw. Wow, she hadn’t expected that in the least.

“Giles?” Buffy asked cautiously. Maybe the house was making its own apparitions now. That might explain the weird Spike/William thing.

She glanced back toward the vampire, but he was gone. She looked around the room and didn’t see him anywhere. Everyone else was there though, thank god.

“Buffy.” Giles sounded relieved. Anya was wearing a giant Bunny suit for some reason. Xander really did have strange taste in women.

“What are you wearing?” Willow asked Buffy, clutching Oz’s hand and furrowing her brow.

“Oh my god,” Xander said loudly. “Is that evil dead’s _coat_?”

Everyone was staring at her and Buffy felt oddly defensive. It had been a really nice gesture! By a possessed vampire, she realized, her shoulders slumping. God, she had the worst luck with men.

“Um,” she said. “Yes?”

“Where…?” Giles trailed off and looked around, frowning. “Was Spike here? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t him, really. I mean, it was, but he thought he was someone named William.”

“Wasn’t that his name before Spike?” Willow asked.

Buffy shook her head. “He was, like, a nice William.” Willow scrunched up her face in confusion.

Giles was looking at her curiously but the house was shaking and making weird noises. “Well, let’s take care of this first,” he said. Buffy avoided his eyes and pulled the coat a little tighter.

***

Spike tipped the bottle back only to find it empty. He snarled and threw it against the wall, shattering it next to the other ones. He attempted to get up off the bed but found himself face down on the floor instead.

Third one’s the charm, he decided with drunken satisfaction. To think he’d almost nicked only two bottles from that hellscape of a party earlier. He should have known better than to go out on bloody Halloween.

He groaned, remembering. He’d been William again, that poncey, momma’s-boy poet that he hated with a passion. And the worst part was that the _Slayer_ had seen him.

Christ, he was sure he’d drunk enough to be blissfully unconscious by now.

Spike pounded his head weakly against the rough carpet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. If he’d just killed the damn Slayer when he’d meant to, he’d be well out of Sunnyhell by now and onto terrorizing bigger and better places.

This was her fault entirely. Her and her bleeding stupid girlie feelings that made her pretty eyes look all empty and sad. Even after he’d taken care of the damn problem for her.

Spike groaned and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. The room was spinning. He closed his eyes. Ah, better. That was it, he decided. She was going to die.

He sighed. At least he’d gotten a good ogle at her bare legs. That dress had been absolutely adorable and fantastically revealing. She used to wear skirts more often. Maybe he could suggest she wear them again. A couple of high kicks in a skirt with those legs would stun most vampires even if the blows never landed.

He snorted to himself and rubbed the bulge in his jeans. Yeah, the skirt was delicious. Even William hadn’t been able to keep his eyes to himself, and he was almost certain one of the rotting zombie hands had tried to cop a feel. Spike smirked. Raised the dead, she did.

He groaned and released his cock from its confines, sliding his hand down to grip his lengthening shaft. He pictured her hair loose and curling over her shoulders like it had been the last time they watched the sunset together. The sun’s fading rays making her head glow as his fingers slid though golden, silky strands.

Yeah, that was better than the way her hair had been bound earlier. He curled his tongue behind his teeth and stroked himself, his cock hard and straining.

He might have been worthless William tonight but even that timid little virgin had peeked under the Slayer’s skirts as she laid out a couple of shambling corpses, and Christ, the little white panties? She was the worst kind of tease. She had no idea why every man in a mile radius was panting for her.

Spike gripped his cock tighter, hard enough to put an edge of pain in his pleasure. He moved his hand faster, sliding it up and down his thick shaft and using his thumb to tease the head. His unnecessary breath was coming in short gasps now. He reached down with his other hand to fondle his balls.

If he’d been himself instead of _William_ he could have tussled with the Slayer in that basement, pinned her body beneath his and ground his stiff cock against those little white panties, making her pant and writhe. Her hair would be fanning out like a golden halo as her braids came undone. Her strong thighs wrapping around his waist as he drove her to orgasm even as she struggled against him. He could have made her scream his name.

Spike groaned and lifted his hips off the carpet as his cock spasmed and his release coated his hand. Yeah, she was definitely dying soon.

***

“Here.” Buffy dumped his coat on the bench and didn’t let herself worry about whether he would stop it from slithering to the ground. The vampire caught it, of course, and glared up at her. Well, as much as he could glare through those damn sunglasses.

She didn’t like not being able to see his eyes. She’d never realized before how expressive his face was. When he was William it had been so easy to see the difference between the two of them just by looking in his eyes.

“I should kill you,” she said, instead of thanking him for the loan of the coat. That had been William anyways.

Spike snorted, still lounging like he always did: arms stretched across the backrest, black t-shirt tight across his chest and practically daring her to stake him right in his unbeating heart. He probably got his shirts a size too small on purpose. She glared back.

“Like to see you try,” Spike replied, sneering and waggling his hand at her. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how fast she would have to move to get the ring off his finger.

Buffy couldn’t believe she hadn’t even thought about the stupid Gem last night, when Spike had been sweet and gentlemanly and completely unlike himself. She’d tried to convince herself that the vampire had been an apparition but the presence of his leather coat around her as she’d trudged back to the dorm with Willow had seriously put a damper on that idea. Buffy still hadn’t told her best friend or her Watcher about meeting with Spike in the evenings. Although it wasn’t as though she was really hiding it. After all, their bench was out in the middle of the quad by her dorm, in plain sight.

Spike was watching her with something that might have been anticipation but she couldn’t tell because she couldn’t see his eyes. The glasses were empty except for the refection of the quad behind her. Like Parker’s dead eyes, she thought suddenly, deflating.

Spike frowned. “What?”

Maybe she should be concerned that a vampire could read her moods so well. “You killed him.”

Spike curled his lip in disgust. “Yeah, so?”

“It’s my fault he’s dead, isn’t it?”

“It’s his own fault for being a wanker.”

Buffy looked at the Spike, hesitant to even ask but unable to keep herself from doing so. “Did you do it for me?”

Spike scowled and wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Did it so I could kill you.”

Buffy fought back tears and turned to sit on the bench so she didn’t have to look at the vampire anymore. He hadn’t killed her yet and said he wouldn’t until she was ready, which made his presence here her fault. “It’s my fault,” she said out loud.

The vampire beside her sighed. The sun was already partway below the horizon. She’d been late tonight. She almost hadn’t come at all but she couldn’t stop watching his evil, bleached head from her window and besides, she had his stupid jacket.

“Who’s William?” Buffy asked.

Spike twitched a little beside her.  “No one.”

Buffy leaned back against the bench and tilted her head towards his hand. He reached up and rubbed the nape of her neck with strong fingers for a moment before sliding them through her hair. She suppressed a sigh.

“Giles said the demon made us face our worst fears,” Buffy said, watching him out of the corner of her eye.  Spike didn’t answer her. “Wasn’t your name William when you were alive?” she prodded. His hand stilled in her hair.

“So?” he finally said, his hand moving again. “Lots of Williams in the world.”

“Probably not many who became evil vampires,” she pointed out.

“Evil, exactly,” he responded. “And don’t you forget it.”

Buffy shrugged. “I haven’t.”

“Good.” The last sliver of sun slipped away and Buffy shivered. The nights were getting colder. “Not giving you my coat,” Spike grumbled.

“I don’t want your smelly coat.” Buffy crossed her arms and tossed her hair, moving her head away from him and his soothing fingers. She shouldn’t have come out to talk to the stupid vampire. He’d killed Parker and didn’t even understand that he’d done something wrong. He couldn’t, not without his soul. William had been polite and chivalrous and, okay, a little dorky, but even that had been kind of sweet. Spike was nothing like William. Except she suspected he had been William, once.

“I’m still going to kill you.”

“I know.” Buffy wished her voice didn’t sound so small.

“Be a good death,” Spike offered. “Go out like a warrior.” He moved the sunglasses up to the top of his head. The sunburn had faded. She wondered if he’d thought to buy sunscreen. She doubted his milky-white skin could really tan, even before the whole vampire deal.

Buffy nodded. She was the Slayer and he was a vampire. So what if Spike had killed Slayers like, decades ago. She’d beaten him before and maybe she could do it again, somehow. “I know.” Her voice sounded stronger. Good. She was sick and tired of feeling sad. She couldn’t let Spike hurt anyone else. She just had to make him promise to leave if he killed her. She doubted he’d really want to stick around Sunnydale anyways.

“He was a git,” Spike said suddenly.

“He didn’t deserve to die,” Buffy replied quietly.

“He deserved worse.” Spike’s low growl made her shiver again.

She stood abruptly and faced him, wrapping her arms around herself. “No one deserves to die like that.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Evil,” he drawled.

Buffy huffed a breath. “William wasn’t.”

“William was a nancy boy,” Spike scoffed.

“I liked him.”

Spike looked surprised. Buffy tossed her hair again, watching his eyes lose focus for a moment. He almost looked like William. She stormed off before he could say anything else and ruin her night even further. There had to be way to get the Gem away from that infuriating vampire.

Even if Spike did have little bits of William still inside him, she had to remember he was a monster. A monster who’d killed Parker. Buffy’s shoulders slumped. Why was it always up to her to save the world? She walked a little faster to try and keep warm and wondered what a regular college kid would be doing tonight. Studying with friends at the library? Complaining about their professors over a drink? Maybe she could pretend, for just a little while, that she was one of them. 


	4. No More Tears

“Spike!” Xander’s voice was high-pitched enough to make the vampire wince. Spike had tied one on again last night and all he wanted was a little hair of the dog. Leave it to the Slayer’s friends to bugger up his evening.

“Didn’t realize you were still waiting for your balls to descend, Harris.” Xander was staring at him nervously from behind the bar. Spike rolled his eyes. “I already ate, you ninny. Give me a beer.”

“No!” Xander protested just as his boss stepped up beside him.

“Hey,” the older man grunted, setting a bottle in front of Spike and shooting a look at Xander before meandering away. Spike smirked and lifted his beer toward him. It wasn’t his favorite, but the American stuff was always so cold the taste didn’t matter much.

“Cheers, then.” The vampire tipped his beer back just as a feminine laugh caught his ear.

Xander’s face went white. Harris shot a look in his boss’s direction before leaning over the bar, a determined look on his face. “I swear to god, you touch her and I will kill you or die trying.”

Spike turned around. He slowly smiled as Harris continued hissing impotent threats over the bar. Well, well, looked like it was his lucky night after all. The Slayer was cozily ensconced with a group of blithering idiots that were competing for her attention. She had a beer in front of her and from the glassy look in her eye it wasn’t the first. He’d wondered where she’d been. She hadn’t come out to their bench in a few days, though he’d caught sight of her a few times flitting around campus and looking miserable. How long did it take to get over some dead blighter anyway?

“She said you’d promised her a fair fight, or something?” Harris’ desperate words penetrated and Spike glanced back at him. The boy looked panicked.

“Mentioned me, has she?” Spike raised an eyebrow and looked back over at the Slayer. She’d done something with her hair, made it all kinky. He frowned, trying to decide if he liked it. “Keep your shirt on, Harris, wouldn’t be much fun if she couldn’t remember the fight.” The vampire’s frown deepened as Xander relaxed. “Decent place for a good, old-fashioned brawl, though.” There, now the whelp was pale again. Spike nodded with satisfaction.

“Well, then.” Spike slid his empty bottle across the bar and Xander automatically replaced it with a fresh beer. “Off to go chat up an old acquaintance.” He winked at the boy and sauntered away from the bar.

Spike watched the Slayer giggle at something one of the idiots surrounding her said. She almost looked like her old self. There was fire back in her eyes, but tamped down, burning low. He would just have to remind her that these pathetic boys could never hope to deserve her. He wasn’t going to wait for her to get over another failed tryst.

“Slayer,” Spike said, using one foot to shove a chair full of loser over and settling himself in next to her. Her confused face was delicious. He gave her his best Sid Vicious grin before leaning back and letting his arm settle onto the back of her chair. “Boys,” he said to the rest of the table.

“Spike!” Buffy squeaked, her eyes wide. “Um.” She glanced at others before leaning closer to him. “What you doing here?” she whispered loudly.

Spike enjoyed the way her breath tickled his ear and her nose nearly collided with his cheekbone. Yeah, she was clearly three sheets to the wind. In answer to her question he merely raised his beer and an eyebrow. The rest of the table had gone silent.

“Uh,” one of the morons finally ventured. “Who boy?”

Spike looked at the Slayer expectantly. She took a swig of the beer in front of her. He was kind of impressed, actually. Always thought she’d be more of a mixed drink and wine cooler kind of girl. “Spike,” Buffy finally said, darting a glance at him. “He…um…” Spike waggled his eyebrows at her, enjoying this immensely. “Other boy.”

Her incredibly vague introduction seemed to placate the idiots at the table. He contemplated flashing some fang just for fun, but then the Slayer leaned towards him, smiling drunkenly, and he thought maybe he’d make sure none of these prats were going to get lucky with her first. 

The moron whose chair he’d shoved over was still staring at him. “What?” Spike asked, already bored by what passed for conversation between these tossers.

The boy’s eyes darted between the vampire and the Slayer several times before he opened his mouth. “Girl pretty.”

Spike felt his lip curl. Well, good thing he’d stopped by then. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug and threaded his hand through the Slayer’s hair. Maybe the new style wasn’t too bad, he decided, it was still soft as it slid through his fingers. The Slayer let out a contented sigh and let her head rest against him. Spike smirked. “She’s not for you wankers.”

He heard the Slayer giggle into his shoulder. “Other boy talks funny.” She lifted her head up. “Beer!” Buffy said abruptly, banging on the table and almost sloshing beer out of her glass. “Foamy and…” the rest of the table seemed enraptured. “…good.”

Buffy tried to pick up her beer, missing the first time. Spike decided this was the most fun he’d had in years.

The idiots were still watching him closely, although the one on the other side of the Slayer was getting bold again. “Girl,” the moron practically grunted, leaning closer to Buffy. “You pretty, girl.” He glanced warily at Spike. Spike’s fangs were itching. Buffy giggled and Harris suddenly appeared at their table.

“Okay!” Xander announced. “Time for the girl to go home.” Buffy’s lower lip snuck out and Spike watched with amusement as the whelp valiantly ignored it. “Buffy,” Harris added in an undertone. “Please, go home.” He glanced over at Spike, who grinned and raised his beer bottle.

Buffy looked ready to argue until the jukebox in the corner started playing. Her head whipped around and she practically crawled over Spike’s lap to get up. He adjusted his hardening cock before standing himself. The Neanderthals at the table looked like they were ten minutes from drooling all over themselves.

“Boys,” Spike waited until he had their attention. He let his fangs emerge, bracing his hands against the sticky tabletop. “Touch her and your hands will be the first things to go missing,” he said, his voice low and menacing. They all went perfectly still. He could hear their hearts start racing. He shook off his demon face and one of the losers actually tipped backwards in his chair, sprawling onto the floor. Right then, his job here was done.

He looked over toward the jukebox and frowned. Harris was the only one standing there and the bar was almost empty. “Where is she?”

“Gone,” Harris practically squeaked. “She’s…she left.” Spike growled under his breath and stalked out the door into the night.

The vampire found her crossing the lawn in front of her dorm. “Slayer,” he said, falling into step beside her. She must have downed at least a pitcher by herself, because she was starting to list to one side.

Buffy stopped and stared at him. He tilted his head and studied her as well. She seemed a little…off. And her hair looked different than it had just a little while ago. Possibly longer, somehow, and more twisted up. “Boy,” she finally said, taking a step towards him.

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Vampire,” he corrected her. She frowned in confusion, which had him lifting both eyebrows.

“Vam…pire,” she repeated slowly, the word rolling off her tongue like it was foreign. Spike realized that perhaps there was something going on here beyond the drunkenness.

She took a step towards him and he tensed. Bloody hell, he’d just wanted a drink before he went to bed and brought himself off to images of her writhing under him while he played hide the stake and now he had an unpredictable, drunk Slayer looking at him like he was lunch.

“Yeah,” he said cautiously.

He was completely unprepared for her to reach out and slide her hands up his chest. “Vampire nice.”

“Oi!” Spike tried to step back, offended, but she was clinging to him now, her face buried in the crook of his neck. And bleeding Christ, was she sniffing him? “Get off, Slayer,” he said through gritted teeth, grasping her upper arms.

“Vampire smell good,” she murmured against his neck.

Her body was pressed up tight against his and he could feel her breasts rubbing against his chest as she slid her arms around his torso and clung to him. Spike stared up at the starry sky, wondering where, exactly, his unlife had gone so far off the rails. He sighed and wrapped his arms around the Slayer, one hand slipping into her tangled hair. He rested his cheek against her head and inhaled. She smelled the same, delicious and warm.

“Slayer.” He tried to get her attention again. He really shouldn’t be standing out here contemplating whether or not he could get away with sliding his hands down over her tight little ass. They were supposed to fight to the death, and he realized maybe he’d waited too long. “That’s it,” he said harshly, trying to pull back from her.

He’d forgotten how strong she could be, which was completely daft. All he’d been doing was waiting for her to be strong again. Her hands were gripping his shirt tightly and she’d tipped her head back to look up at him. “Smell good,” she said dreamily, just before she kissed him.

Spike’s brain shorted out. This was not supposed to happen. Sure, he thought about her naked more than was probably proper, considering their animosity, but he was _evil,_ so proper could fuck right off. This, though, was definitely out of bounds. This was dirty pool. He never thought she had it in her.

Buffy was moaning against his lips and he could feel her wicked little tongue coaxing him to let her in. Spike decided this was entirely not his fault, and he was evil, so why the hell not. And with that mental shrug he dove in, opening his mouth to her questing tongue and moving one hand down to cup her ass. It was an even better handful than he’d imagined. He curled a hand into her hair and tugged her head back to change the angle of their mouths, his fingers tangling in those silken locks. Her body was warm and pliant and melted against him unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Her lips were soft against his and she was an enthusiastic partner, grinding her body against his trapped cock, and making him groan into her mouth. She tasted like beer and something primal that made the blood pool low in his belly and his fangs tingle. One of her hands was clutching the back of his neck and the other was working its way under his shirt when he heard a voice and suddenly remembered where they were.

“Buffy?” the Watcher called from somewhere nearby.

Spike pulled back from the Slayer’s addictive mouth with a gasp. She whimpered at the separation and he fought the temptation to dive in again. Her lower lip was red and plump from him biting it with blunt teeth and he wanted to map her entire lithe little body with his tongue.

He was teetering on the edge of just dragging her back to his room and working his way through every dirty fantasy he’d been harboring but Spike knew that was insanity. Whatever was wrong, her friends were already halfway to a solution and he would need at least a week before he’d be ready to let her out of his bed. Also, she was the _Slayer_ , he remembered a bit belatedly.

Right, time to be on his way. Spike untangled himself from her with a concerted effort and pushed her back a step. “Slayer, that’s enough.”

“Why stopping?” Her pout was out in full force. “No stopping. Vampire taste good.”

Spike could hear Harris’ voice as well as the Watcher’s now. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind the Slayer’s ear. “You taste good too, kitten, but I have to go now.”

“No.” She scowled and reached for him.

“Yes,” he replied. He quickly took two steps back as she stalked forward, trying to regain his equilibrium. “Stay,” he snapped.

Buffy stopped, looking wounded. He spun on his heel and slipped into the shadows as Giles came into view around the corner of her dorm building.

Spike was halfway back to his room before he realized he hadn’t even _thought_ about killing her tonight. Sure, they were going to fight, eventually, but the ending he’d originally imagined was getting a lot fuzzier. Something was very, very wrong, and he had an uneasy feeling that it might be him.

***

Buffy woke up slowly, wondering why her head felt like she’d used it to bash walls in last night. It tasted like something had crawled in her mouth and died. She cracked one eye open and immediately regretted it. The room was too bright. She groaned and pulled her blankets up over her head. Her ears were ringing dimly and she hoped to god that wasn’t permanent.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Willow sang in a voice that was much, much too loud.

Buffy managed to get a hand out from under the covers to wave, hopefully in the direction of her friend. Then she settled in to sleep some more.

“You missed morning classes, but if you hurry we can make psych,” Willow continued. The covers over her face were suddenly gone, making Buffy whimper. “Here,” Willow shoved a bottle in her hand. “Drink up. Xander swears it will help.”

Buffy put her free hand over her face, dimly recalling some totally weird events that she wasn’t sure were dreams or reality. She sat up painfully. “What happened?” she croaked, wincing and taking a swig of some bright red drink. God, her throat hurt.

“Well,” Willow started. Her voice was still too loud, but the buzzing in Buffy’s ears seemed to have quieted a little. She downed the rest of the bottle. Willow handed her another one, only this one was a radioactive orange color. Buffy made a face but opened it anyways. She was actually starting to feel a little better.

“First,” Willow continued. “You had a beer fest with some cursed beer that made you go all cave-Buffy. Then apparently you hung out with Spike, wandered around campus until Xander and Giles found you, and, finally, rescued me from a fire.”

Buffy stopped mid-drink. “Spike?” she squeaked. Oh god, she’d really hoped she’d dreamt that part.

“Spike,” Willow confirmed. “Xander said he came into the bar and kind of, um, hit on you?”

Buffy choked on her drink. “He did not!”

“Uh, okay.” Willow looked at her curiously. “It’s just, Xander said you and Spike were, uh, a little snuggly?”

Buffy could feel her cheeks starting to burn. Oh god, Xander had seen her slutty, beer-induced, make out session with a totally evil vampire. She was doomed. And also insane. Spike was trying to _kill_ her. She frowned. Actually, he kind of sucked at killing her, now that she thought about it. It’d been a while since the vampire had done more than vaguely threaten her.

Willow was staring at her. “I…” Buffy wasn’t sure what to say. “I was really out of it.” There, maybe that would excuse most of it.

“Yeah,” Willow nodded, “I know.” She looked sympathetic. “Maybe Xander was wrong. He said he couldn’t see that well from across the bar but it looked like Spike was kind of, um, petting your hair.”

“Oh,” Buffy said, incredibly relieved. Sure, hair petting was weird but _kissing_ was way, way worse. Maybe she was remembering that part wrong. She was almost positive Spike would never kiss her. That part was probably just a crazy, beer-induced dream. Bad beer. “Well, that’s weird.”  

“You didn’t see him after you left the bar? Xander was really worried Spike was going to try and find you and, you know, hurt you or something.”

“Uh, nope,” Buffy said, her heart sinking again. Well, double crap, maybe she hadn’t been dreaming. The only way to know for sure was to ask Spike, and she was never, ever, in a million years going to do that. Total denial was looking like the way to go.

“Okay. Well, good. And thanks for the saving-from-a-fire thing.” Willow smiled at her. “You’ve got ten minutes to get ready. I don’t think Professor Walsh will let you skip another class.”

“Yikes.” Buffy threw her covers off and stood up. She had a wait a moment for the dizziness to pass, but she felt a thousand times better already. “Thanks, Will.”

“Sure,” Willow said as Buffy rummaged through her closet. “Hey, can we talk later? About, um, Oz?””

“Of course.” Buffy turned to Willow to ask more but her friend was already heading out the door.

Buffy managed to only be five minutes late to psych, but it was hours before she was able drop her bookbag on the floor of her room again. Her head still hurt and Willow wasn’t due back for a while yet. She hesitated before going to the window. There was Spike, patiently waiting like he had been all week, even though she hadn’t gone to sit with him once. She chewed on her lower lip for a long minute, trying not to notice that it was kind of sore.

Buffy had even gone so far as to spend several evenings with her Watcher, researching possible ways to counteract the power of the Gem. They’d found exactly bupkis, and every morning Buffy woke up afraid that the vampire might have offed another one of her classmates. She had to convince him she was ready to fight. It was time to put an end to this strange stalemate. 

“Here goes,” she finally muttered to herself. She was the Slayer. She couldn’t be afraid of evil vampires. She especially couldn’t be afraid of evil vampires because she might have _kissed_ them. God, how did she end up in these situations? She squared her shoulders and left the room, heading for their bench.

“Hey.” She stood in front of Spike and crossed her arms. The stupid aviators were perched on his nose. She hated those things with a passion.

“Slayer,” he said, sprawled across the bench just like always. She narrowed her eyes at him and experimentally tossed her hair a little. His fingers twitched. Huh. “What?” He sounded impatient.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” she asked, considering him. Buffy watched the vampire dig for a cigarette in his coat pocket and raised her eyebrows. He never smoked when they sat together. Although she hadn’t sat down yet, so maybe that was throwing him off.

“Are you offering?” he finally said, lighting up and inhaling. He relaxed back against the bench again. Buffy shrugged and he frowned at her. “I told you I would when you got back on your feet.”

“I know,” Buffy said, staring steadily. She was blocking the sun, hoping he’d take off the damn glasses. “Why?”

Spike curled his lip at her. “Why am I going to kill you?” he asked incredulously. “Because I’m a vampire and you’re the Slayer! That’s bloody why.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I meant, why are you waiting?” Spike was silent. She stood there, willing herself to be patient.

“Are you going to sit down or just stand there like a bleeding Valkyrie all night?” he finally snapped, grinding out his cigarette under his boot.

“Spike, answer the question.”

His lips flattened into an angry line. “I don’t know,” he growled. “Happy?”

“No!” Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation and finally flopped down on the bench next to him.

Spike snorted. “Of course not. What the hell is your problem, Slayer?”

“My problem is you!”

“It’s not like you’re a bloody peach, either!”

“Spike,” she sighed. She really wanted to punch him. That was a good sign. She hadn’t wanted to punch anything for a while. “Seriously, what is with this whole…thing?” She gestured between the two of them.

“You kissed me!” he exclaimed.

“Oh my _god_.” Buffy buried her face in her hands. “I was drunk! And cursed!”

“Not nice to lay one like that on a fella and not follow through,” Spike said, sounding sulky.

Buffy finally turned to look at him, her mouth dropping open. “You’re the one who left!” Spike rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and looked like he was about to say something else. “No.” Buffy held up her hand. “We’re not talking about that anymore.” She saw the top of Spike’s eyebrow lift above the lenses of his glasses. “Take off those stupid things!” she hissed.

The vampire tipped the sunglasses up onto his head. Buffy glared at him as he studied her. At least she could see his eyes now. They were an almost unearthly shade of blue in the fading sunlight, except that she wasn’t supposed to notice things like that because he was an evil demon.

“What are we talking about, then, Slayer?”

“Fighting,” Buffy said firmly.

“Right,” Spike agreed easily. “You ready?”

“Yes. I’m going to kick your ass.”

She watched Spike’s mouth curl into a delighted smile. “Yeah?” He looked…happy. He was so completely infuriating.

“Oh yeah,” she confirmed. He was still staring, his eyes steady on her face as he grinned at her like a little boy. She tried not to squirm uncomfortably. For a moment she was reminded of William.

“There you are,” he said approvingly. “Knew my Slayer was in there somewhere.”

Buffy ground her teeth together. “I am _not_ your Slayer.”

Spike shrugged noncommittally and she felt his fingers reach up to twist a piece of her hair. “Will be when I kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first.” Buffy scooted a little closer to the vampire. His hand cupped the back of her skull before his fingers started sliding through her hair. She was seriously not going to think about why she’d let it down before joining him on their bench. She sighed quietly and closed her eyes.

“Buffy?” a little voice asked.

Buffy’s eyes flew open as Spike’s hand froze in her hair. Willow was standing in front of them, her eyes wide and unsure.

“Um.” Buffy stared at her friend.

“Red,” Spike acknowledged.

“Hey,” Willow said hesitantly. “My class ended a little early and I thought maybe…” She darted a look at Spike. Buffy felt him drop his hand back behind her.

“Oh, right!” Buffy stood suddenly and turned to Spike. “So, tomorrow?”

Spike smiled again. “Tomorrow, Slayer.”

Buffy nodded at him and turned, holding her head high. “Let’s go, Will.”

Willow followed her, looking perplexed. “What’s tomorrow?”

“I kill him,” Buffy said confidently.

Willow looked at her strangely. “Ok,” she said. “So, the hair thing?”

Buffy waved a hand. “There was a-a leaf.”

“In your hair,” Willow said, sounding skeptical.

“Yep.”

“And the evil vampire who’s trying to kill you, uh, pulled it out for you?”

“Yes?” Buffy was starting to think Willow wasn’t really falling for the leaf thing.

“That’s…weird.”

Buffy snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

They made it back to their room. Willow still looked perplexed. “Um, Buffy?” Buffy looked at her friend expectantly. “Are you and Spike, um, you know?” Willow made a weird, vaguely suggestive motion with one hand.

“No!” Buffy said, horrified. “No. God, Will, he’s a _vampire_.”

Willow nodded “Sure, I know, but, uh, a vampire who isn’t trying very hard to kill you even though he‘s invincible or whatever. And seems to be very interested in…picking leaves out of your hair.”

Buffy tried to laugh. Willow’s face told her it wasn’t very convincing so she threw herself back on her bed with a sigh. “I know,” she said glumly. “But he’s still a vampire.”

“True,” Willow said.

“So I have to kill him.” Buffy hoped she sounded more enthusiastic that she felt. Sure, Spike was being all weirdly not-totally-evil right now, but he’d killed people. He’d killed _Parker_ , even if it was for her, which was freaky and evil so he had to die. She tried not to think about how he’d kissed her with such intensity that she probably would have devolved into cave-Buffy even without the beer. He was a monster and she had a duty to fulfill. Spike had to die.

 ***

Spike took another pull of the bottle he’d stolen from the bar when Harris’ back was turned.

Right, tomorrow she’d said. He tried to muster up some enthusiasm. Oh, the dance would be thrilling; he had no trouble imagining that. His cock stirred at the thought of her hair flying about in the sunshine, but the ending, that was a little shaky. He would beat her, that much was certain. He had the Gem, so she couldn’t kill him. But when he thought about killing her it made him feel all…empty inside.

Oh god, he didn’t want her dead, he realized with dawning horror. How had that happened?

Spike groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. Maybe he should just leave town. He had the Gem, his car was shiny clean with no bootblack on the windows for the first time in decades, and he had all the time in the world. An eternity, literally. But if he left now he would look like a coward, like he hadn’t wanted to face her, when, in fact, he just didn’t want to _end_ her. Except that he was a vampire and ending her should be the only thing he wanted. He was so bloody fucked.

Spike rolled over on the tiny bed and sighed morosely. Maybe he should go out and see if he could find a nice little chit to pass the evening with, have himself a snack. That sounded fine. He sighed again. Or maybe he could go see if he could catch a glimpse of the Slayer through her dorm room window. Yeah, that was better.

Spike headed out, feeling a bit perkier. He lit a cigarette and strolled across the quad.

Three cigarettes later he was starting to hate this plan. She wasn’t home, and it didn’t look like she was arriving anytime soon. He scowled up at her dark windows. Where the bloody hell was she? He’d thought after the whole beer experience she’d be all cuddled up in her beddy-bye tonight.

He suddenly remembered the witch. Red might not have noticed the whole hair thing, if she was mostly blind, but she definitely would have noticed the sharing a bench and chatting without violence thing. That probably wasn’t good for the Slayer. Her friends were an uptight bunch. And how in the bleeding hell had that even happened? When did he start spending time with the Slayer without trying to kill her?

Spike shook his head in frustration. This was ridiculous. He was William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers. If he didn’t kill the Slayer it was only a matter of time before something else took her out. He was practically doing her a favor, making her one of the few Slayers to earn the privilege of being killed by him. He was a legend, and he would make her one too.

He’d have to remember to tell her that before she died, to try and make her understand. Maybe he could kiss her first, just a last taste of her sweet mouth before she was gone. He was going to miss her. Miss how she looked like an avenging angel when she fought, her hair lit up in the sun like a bright, fiery halo. He sighed nostalgically. 

The vampire heard something rustling in the bushes behind him and turned abruptly. A man in fatigues was standing there pointing a strange gun, his face painted like an extra in a war movie. “What the fu-” Spike was cut off by a surge of electricity coursing through his body. The vampire’s muscles seized up and he involuntarily fell to his knees, glad he had no need to breathe.

Spike recovered almost instantly thanks to the Gem, waiting with his head bowed until the army wanker who’d dared shoot him edged a little closer. He could hear a radio crackling and a voice snapping out orders as the git ventured within an arm’s reach. Spike reared up and seized the man by the throat, tossing him back into the bushes before the vampire melted into the shadows.

That was a little too close for comfort. Spike heard heavy footsteps heading in his direction as he carefully crept away. He had no idea what that was about, but it reminded him of something from a few decades ago that he wasn’t anxious to experience again. It was almost as if that military reject had been hunting for him, which was strange, now that he thought about it. The Gem made it much easier for him to blend in, what with the whole being able to walk about in the sunshine and all. He was practically a man, unless…

Rage suddenly coursed through him. The goddamn Slayer had set him up, the little bitch. After all he’d done for her, she’d tried to have him ambushed. He was a bloody fool, he realized. She was the _Slayer_. And she was going to die.


	5. Thunder Underground

Buffy waited, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. It was edging toward winter, so the field she’d chosen for the fight was empty of students this late in the day. She knew the vampire would find her. What, exactly, she hoped would happen after their confrontation was a confused jumble in her mind that she refused to examine too closely.

Spike moved so silently she almost missed seeing him step out of the trees beside her. Buffy bit her lower lip, studying him. He had his hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket and his eyes were cold and distant. He looked nothing like William now. “Slayer,” he growled.

She took a breath and felt her heart constrict for a second at his impersonal tone. But what had she expected, really? He was an evil vampire. He’d told her he was going to kill her practically every day since he’d gotten the Gem. “Spike,” Buffy replied, lifting her chin and twirling a stake between her fingers. It hurt to see him looking at her that way, but she wasn’t going to let him win. Not this time.

He didn’t give her any warning, because he was a _vampire_. Buffy was furious with herself for letting him get so close. Her head snapped back from the force of his opening blow. She recovered quickly, ducking under his next attack and getting behind him. Her foot connected with his body and he landed with a satisfying thud a few feet away. Of course, he rolled up onto his feet immediately, which was disappointing but not unexpected.

They circled each other as the shadows deepened. “Where’s your backup tonight?” Spike sneered. “Did I damage your little army boy?”

“What?” Buffy watched the vampire warily and tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

“Should’ve known you’d fight dirty,” he snarled at her as she blocked an attack, managing to avoid most of his blows and landing one of her own.

Her adrenaline was up now, her breath coming faster. She’d almost forgotten how skilled he was as a fighter, she’d been so focused on the power the Gem gave him. “What the hell are you talking about?” she hissed, tossing her hair out of her eyes. She saw him pause for a second and grimly made note of that for later. The next few minutes were a blur. It was all she could do to keep her feet under her while trying to deflect some of his more vicious hits.

Buffy managed to get some distance again, panting with the effort. Spike was watching her with such distain it made her insides ache. “Like that little gun could have stopped me,” he growled.

The pieces finally clicked and Buffy briefly stilled. “The commando guy?” she asked. “He shot you?”

Spike took advantage of her tactical error and she went flying again. She regained her feet several yards from where she’d started. “Please,” Spike jeered. “Like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t!” Buffy protested, taking a moment to catch her breath. She wasn’t sure why she was so concerned about making sure he knew she had nothing to do with whatever had happened to him. “I was tracking a werewolf last night,” she tried to explain. “I ran into that guy too. I don’t know what his deal is.”

The vampire cocked his head at her and she was strangely relieved to see some of his anger abate. Not that she wasn’t still going to…stop him or something. Spike narrowed his eyes and stalked in her direction. She was briefly jealous that he didn’t have to bother catching his breath. Stupid vampires.

“How the hell did he know, then?” Spike asked suspiciously. She was studying his feet, trying to see which way he would go. “Gem makes me practically human.”

“Don’t know,” Buffy said absently, watching him shift his weight slightly to the left. She braced herself. “He was tracking the werewolf too, with some kind of blinky thingy.” His fist missed its target and she was able to take him down to his knees, going for the hand where he wore the Gem.

“Blinky thingy?” Spike sounded amused as he twisted his arm away from her and they grappled on the ground for a minute. “Technical term, Slayer? I’m almost gonna miss that stunning intellect.”

Buffy found herself pinned on her back, Spike’s hands trapping her wrists on either side of her head. Well, this was familiar. The last of the sunlight was filtering through the trees, making his eyes look impossibly blue. She was breathing heavily, her legs tensing as she prepared to throw him off. “Well, I’m not going to miss your stunningly original insults.” She rolled her eyes for good measure as the vampire started to grin.

“Fiesty little bitch,” he said, making it sound like a compliment. She narrowed her eyes just before headbutting him. Spike jerked back, and loosened his grip just long enough for her to roll them over, reversing their positions.

“Cocky little vampire,” she retorted.

His smile grew wider as he lay underneath her. “Might want to revise that one a bit, love,” he purred, thrusting his hips up against hers.

“Ew, Spike!” Buffy hopped up onto her feet and backed away, glaring. She tried to suppress the shiver working its way up her spine and the sudden tingle between her legs.

The vampire propped himself up on his elbows and unashamedly adjusted himself in his jeans. “Not what you said the other night.” He curled his tongue behind his teeth, still smiling.

Buffy flushed hotly and clenched her fists. “We weren’t going to talk about that!”

Spike climbed to his feet and prowled closer. Buffy checked the position of the sun. Another minute and it would be gone. “Right,” he agreed. “Straight to the action, then.”

Buffy moved sideways, watching him suspiciously. “Uh, we’re still talking about fighting, right?”

The vampire bit his bottom lip, smirking, and Buffy suppressed another shiver. “Could be both,” he offered. Buffy felt her nipples harden. Stupid, treacherous body.

“What?” she squeaked, trying to remember her plan. The vampire was getting awfully close, but he didn’t look like he wanted to fight her anymore.

Spike reached out and snagged the pocket of her jeans with one finger, drawing her to him. He bent his head to her ear. “Still gonna kill you,” he whispered. Buffy nodded dumbly and tilted her head back just as he captured her lips in a bruising kiss.

Well, this wasn’t _exactly_ her plan, she thought dazedly as his tongue swept through her mouth, but she could work with it. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his jacket, keeping him close, and wrapped one leg up around his hip. He groaned into her mouth and slid his hands down to her ass, helping her establish a rhythm as she rocked her pelvis against his trapped cock. “Yeah, love, just like that,” he murmured, kissing his way along her jaw.

Buffy’s breath was coming in short gasps and a fire sparked low in her belly. She slid one hand around to the back of his neck, threading her fingers through the few loose curls she found there. “Spike,” she whispered, trying to memorize the feel of his body pressed against hers. It was even better than her hazy memories from the cursed beer incident. He kissed her deeply, nipping her lower lip with blunt teeth before dropping a trail of sucking kisses down her neck.

She grasped one of his hands, pulling it up. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured against her throat. She supposed she should be concerned about a vampire nibbling at her neck, but who cared when it felt so good? She managed to get her eyes open again. The sun was gone now, the horizon burning red and gold. She directed his hand to the back of her skull, where he tangled it in her hair and gave an experimental tug. She groaned into his ear.

Spike sighed in contentment against her neck, gripping her hair more firmly and massaging her scalp with strong fingers. Buffy felt the fire in her belly building to an inferno and couldn’t keep another moan from escaping. God, he had good hands. She wished this didn’t have to end. “You like that?” he crooned.

“Yes, so much,” she gasped. She slipped her hand up to cover the one he had in her hair, slotting her fingers between his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered softly. Spike froze, startled. She stepped back, twisting his arm harshly as she kicked his leg and brought him down.

Her knees were digging into his upper back and his arm was trapped between her thighs as she slipped the Gem off his finger, trying to keep her hands steady. He roared under her and tried to buck up. She twisted his arm a little more and he stilled with a growl. Buffy took a moment to admire his strong, pale hand, gently placing a kiss on one fingertip.

She slipped the ring into her pocket for safekeeping and let him flip them both over. The vampire scrambled to his feet and backed away, chest heaving. “Bloody bitch,” he spat.

Buffy slowly stood and pulled a stake out of her waistband. “To the death,” she said simply. Spike slipped into game face for the first time all night and leapt at her with a snarl.

He knocked her over and she used his momentum to roll them several times. They came to rest with her straddling his hips, her stake poised over his heart. She pressed it hard against his chest, looking into his yellow eyes. A minute passed. Buffy was paralyzed. She couldn’t seem to convince herself to plunge the stake into his heart, nor could she pull it back, but what other options did she have? She stared at the vampire under her, willing her brain to come up with something. A world without Spike in it just seemed so…wrong.

He slowly dropped his vampire mask, his icy blue eyes boring into hers again. “What the fuck are you waiting for, Slayer, an invitation?” he snapped at her. He wrapped his hand around hers on the stake and pressed it harder into his flesh.

“I win,” Buffy said softly, dropping the stake and sitting back, her empty hands resting on his chest.

“What?” Spike looked confused.

Buffy reached up and gently traced one of his angular cheekbones with one finger. “I win,” she said again.

“I’m not dust, Slayer.” He sounded irritated.

“I know.” She shrugged. “I changed the rules.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not playing by those ones.”

Buffy smiled a little, wishing she felt even a tiny bit triumphant right now. Except she’d beaten him, and whatever they had was over. He was evil, mostly, and a vampire, definitely, and she was the Slayer. He didn’t even have a _soul_. Whatever she imagined to be between them couldn’t be real. She’d been sad and lonely and he’d pretended to care, that was all. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, he still harbored a little bit of William, but that shouldn’t matter to her. Buffy wished she could let him stay for a while longer, but she couldn’t let any more people die. She was almost going to miss the stupid vampire.

“I know,” she said finally. His body was tense underneath her. Her hand was still on his face. He really was kind of beautiful, she decided. A true devil in every sense of the word.  She stroked his cheek again and leaned in to kiss him one last time before she made him leave town forever. His eyes tracked her as she slowly bent down.

“Buffy!” a voice called. She pulled back just short of Spike’s mouth, scowling. The vampire was watching her with an unreadable expression. Damn it, the Powers hated her. “Buffy!”

She looked across the darkening field. “Riley?” she asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” Riley was striding towards her, looking nervous. He came to a halt nearby and cleared his throat, his eyes darting to her and then away again.

Buffy suddenly remembered she was straddling a vampire. Or, actually, a guy, since Riley didn’t know Spike was vampire. Well, this was awkward. “Um.” Buffy felt her face flush as she stood, glancing at Spike. The vampire pushed himself up onto his elbows, eyeing the newcomer.

“Hey,” Riley said, sounding a bit breathless. “I thought that was you.”

“Look, mate,” Spike drawled behind Buffy, still lounging in the grass with his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Do you mind? We’re having a moment here.”

Buffy stifled a nervous giggle. If she didn’t know better she would completely believe that Spike was some bad boy intent on debauching her, which Riley probably did. And Spike _was_ , she supposed, except he was also a vampire intent on killing her. Ugh, why was her life always so complicated?

“Uh, Buffy,” Riley glanced at Spike again. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Buffy raised her eyebrows. Wow, Riley was really taking this whole life coach thing a little far. It was one thing to encourage her in class, but another entirely to try and control her dating habits. Not that she was dating Spike, but still, it was the principle of the thing. She was a grown woman, for god’s sake.

“Um, we really were kind of in the middle of something,” Buffy said. She saw Spike smile wolfishly out of the corner of her eye. Riley glowered at the vampire and Buffy sighed impatiently. “Seriously, I can take care of myself.”

“She can,” Spike offered behind her. He’d gotten to his feet and was searching his pockets for something. Probably a cigarette. Great, that was something else Riley could lecture her about later.

“It’s important,” Riley said persistently.

Spike snorted. “Listen, you overgrown Boy Scout, the lady said she was fine. Now piss off.” He’d gotten a cigarette lit and was glaring at Riley. Buffy rubbed her temple and told herself she shouldn’t hit either of them at the moment. She was so annoyed she’d most likely seriously hurt Riley, and Spike’s lack of damage after one of her punches sent him flying would definitely make both her and the vampire look suspicious.

“Buffy.” Riley said, glaring right back at Spike. “I’m serious. You need to get away from him. He’s dangerous.”

Buffy’s annoyance changed to confusion as she looked at Riley again, then back at Spike. “What?” Riley moved a little closer to her while Buffy stared, perplexed. Had Riley seen them fighting?

“Just, come with me,” Riley said, his expression grim. He stretched his hand out to her like he expected her to take it. He wasn’t watching Spike, Buffy noticed suddenly, he was looking _past_ Spike. Two men in fatigues appeared out of the gloom behind their little group with weird gun things. Buffy opened her mouth to warn the vampire just as a surge of electricity hit him and Spike fell in a graceless heap, his eyes rolling up toward the back of his head.

“Spike!”

“Buffy,” Riley ordered. “Get away from him.”

“What the hell!” Buffy exclaimed, ignoring Riley and moving to crouch over Spike’s inert form.

“He’s dangerous,” Riley told her. “I know this is going to be hard to believe, but he’s not really human. He’s a vampire.” Buffy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “It’s okay, we’ll deal with him,” he assured her. “You’re safe now.”

Buffy was going to throw caution to the wind and punch him if he said one more thing about her being in danger. She was anything but a damsel in distress. “You don’t know the first thing about us,” she hissed. “Leave him alone.” Her heart thundered in her chest. She wasn’t going to let them dust Spike now, not after she’d worked so hard _not_ to dust him. Riley was ruining everything.

“The hostile is coming around, sir,” one of the commandos said. Buffy glared at him and put her hand on Spike’s chest.

“Okay?” she asked him softly.

“What the bleeding fuck?” Spike spit weakly. His eyes fluttered open.

“Who are you?” Buffy asked Riley angrily.

Riley didn’t take his eyes off Spike. “We’re just here to protect you.”

“That’s _it_!” Buffy stood, her hands on her hips. “I don’t need you to protect me!” Spike attempted to sit up next to her, curling a hand around her ankle and leaning into her leg. “I can handle Spike myself!”

“True.” Spike’s voice sounded stronger now. “In more ways than one.”

“Shut up, Spike,” she said, exasperated.

“Buffy, I’m serious, he’s a vampire.”

“I know!” Buffy hissed angrily at Riley, who she was starting to suspect was a lot more than just a student. “I’m the Slayer for god’s sake!”

“Yeah, right,” one of the commando guys scoffed behind her.

Buffy reached down and helped Spike to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

“I can’t let you,” Riley said solemnly.

“You can’t stop me.” She started walking away, dragging Spike behind her, when her vision went fuzzy and white and her entire body seized up. She found herself staring at the night sky for a brief moment before everything went black.


	6. Diary of a Madman

The light beyond his eyelids was bright enough to make Spike wince. He must be lying in the sun, but he didn’t feel himself burning. He cautiously cracked open his eyes and found himself staring at a blank, white-paneled ceiling. He turned his head. More white panels. What the buggering hell was going on?

He groaned as he sat up, his muscles protesting. He looked around again. Three walls were white panels and the fourth was clear glass. He got to his feet cautiously and rolled his sore shoulders. It felt like he’d been run over by several trucks but even the Slayer didn’t hit that hard.

He gritted his teeth. Hot little body be damned, that bitch’s new playmates were going to cost her. He slammed his hands into the glass wall separating him from what looked like a corridor of some kind. The glass pulsed with electricity, stinging his palms enough to make him pull back immediately. He could see demons in the cells across from his. They were all sitting motionless and staring at the blank walls. “Hey!” he shouted. No one responded.

Spike tried to think. He had no idea where he was but from the way those goons had been dressed he imagined they were military. He wondered briefly what they had done with Buffy before snorting at his own stupidity. As if he needed to be concerned about her. She was the Slayer. More than likely she was having tea and biscuits with that overgrown, stick-up-his-arse army brat and laughing at the caged vampire.

Spike snarled again. He should have killed the Slayer weeks ago. Instead, he’d let her twist him up in knots, making him think he had _feelings_ for her. And now he’d lost the Gem, to boot.

“Slayer,” Spike growled furiously, bashing the glass again. “What the bleeding hell!” he yelled at the empty hall. Behind him, a packet of blood fell from the ceiling. He frowned at it before picking it up and looking around cautiously. He didn’t see any cameras but the cells had to be monitored. He smirked and wondered what the ceiling would spit out if he wanked off in here. Maybe he’d try that later.

He was just about to bite into the bag of blood when he heard voices. It sounded like they were heading in his direction. He dropped the blood and bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation. A gurney was wheeled into view and Spike’s jaw dropped.

“What the bloody fuck!” he roared, smashing his fist into the electrified glass. It shuddered but held fast. The two men in white coats that had been pushing the metal table flinched back and stared at him in confusion. The Slayer was strapped down to the gurney, a glazed look in her eye. Her arms were covered in needle marks and her hair was tangled underneath her like she’d been fighting to free herself from the restraints. He smashed his fist against the glass again.

He watched her slowly turn her head, her eyes trying to focus. He thought he saw her mouth form his name as several men in green fatigues came down the corridor at a jog. The Slayer started to struggle against the straps holding her down. “Yeah, Slayer, that’s it, get your pert little ass up off the table,” Spike said encouragingly. He didn’t think she could hear him, but it couldn’t hurt. 

Her body was bowing up off the gurney as she tried to break free, her head thrashing from side to side. He could see her screaming something but couldn’t understand her muffled voice through the glass. Another white-coat came down the hall, striding purposefully. Spike registered that it was a woman just before she slid a needle into Buffy’s arm.

“No!” Spike roared, smashing the glass with both fists now, feeling the electric charge coursing through his arms. He was going to fry if he didn’t stop. He stepped back, chest heaving and watched the woman doctor turn and consider him thoughtfully. Spike finally noticed that one of the guys dressed in military garb was that tosser who’d been talking to Buffy just before they’d ended up here. Riley, Spike remembered, narrowing his eyes as the git met his gaze. He was going to rip that bastard’s square head right off.

The Slayer was still now, her eyes glazed over again. Her head was turned towards him and alarm flashed through the vampire’s mind. She looked _defeated_. These doctors and wanna-be soldiers were hurting his Slayer. They were all going to pay. His chest was heaving with unnecessary breaths and his fists tightened as he tracked the progress of the gurney down the hall until he couldn’t see it anymore.

He had to get out of here, Spike thought grimly, picking up the discarded blood bag and biting into it. That was the last thing he remembered for a while.

***

“…Buffy?”

Buffy tried to open her eyes even though the effort seemed more than it might be worth. She’d been hoping she’d imagined everything: the syringes, the prodding, and the familiar face of her psychology professor barking orders in the background. But now that she was awake again she was very aware that she knew that voice. At least she’d learned something during all those lectures. Finally, Buffy’s eyelids obeyed, allowing her a peek at her surroundings.

“Professor Walsh?” Buffy croaked. The room she was in was generic and white, with no windows or any other hint as to where she might be.

The professor gave her a distracted, professional nod, looking down at her. Buffy tried to move her arms but found she was still strapped down. The restraints were tight and didn’t yield in the slightest as she briefly tested them, curling her hands into fists.

“You gave us quite a shock,” Professor Walsh said without a trace of emotion.

Buffy’s brow furrowed. “What?” Her mouth was dry and her head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. This was worse than her cursed beer hangover. She remembered vague glimpses of another white room and faces wearing surgical masks. She remembered Riley’s stoic face watching them as Professor Walsh poked at her while Buffy struggled to get free. She remembered Spike…she drew a breath. He wasn’t dust. She didn’t know why they hadn’t dusted him but the fact remained that he was still alive, or undead. She felt something like relief curl in her gut. Now she just had to get out of this crazy mad-scientist den. Who the hell were these people, anyways?

“We’d heard rumors, of course.” Professor Walsh continued, her voice calm and dispassionate. “But we didn’t know the Slayer was real.”

Buffy tried to focus. Maybe she was wrong, maybe they were just confused and didn’t realize she was on their side. Stupid Riley and his stupid commando guys shot her before she could explain. And what kind of demon-hunting commandos had never heard of the Slayer? “I’m real.” Buffy tried unsuccessfully to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Who the hell are you?”

Professor Walsh looked like she might smile for a second, but apparently the urge passed. “That information is classified. I can say we’re working with the military. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“A bit tied up,” Buffy said wryly. “Can you undo these stupid straps?”

Professor Walsh didn’t react. “I meant physically. Are you tired?”

Buffy blinked. “Um, a little?”

“Does anything hurt?”

“Only my wrists and ankles because of the _straps_ ,” Buffy emphasized, wiggling her arms and legs again.

The professor made a noncommittal noise. “You seem to heal very quickly.”

“Perk of the job.” Buffy tried to shrug. “Can’t fight demons if you’re laid up for days at a time.”

“Interesting,” Professor Walsh almost had another facial expression before schooling her features. “And how long have you been this way?”

“Since I was fifteen.”

“So, you weren’t always like this?”

“No,” Buffy said, puzzled. “Just since I got Called. Seriously, when are you going to let me up? I’m a good guy, remember?”

“In a moment,” the professor demurred. “We want to be sure you’re completely lucid.”

“I’m totally lucid! I’m the lucidy-est!” Professor Walsh raised one eyebrow and Buffy closed her mouth. This whole setup was starting to freak her out.

“What do you mean, since you got called?”

Buffy sighed. “One girl in all the world, blah blah, Chosen to fight vampires and demons and evil and stuff. Giles says it better, but that’s the gist.”

“Giles is…?”

“My Watcher,” Buffy frowned. “He can tell you more than I can.”

“Does he have similar characteristics?”

“You mean, is he like a Slayer? No, why?” Buffy frowned.

“We like to be thorough.” Professor Walsh gave Buffy a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Tell me how you got these…unusual advantages.”

“Uh, I was Chosen?” 

“By whom?” Professor Walsh’s insincere facial expressions were really starting to creep Buffy out.

“The Powers?”

“Why did they choose you? What happened after you were chosen?”

“I don’t know! I was just told I’d been Chosen and that I was the Slayer,” Buffy said in irritation. “Let me up!”

“But where does your strength come from?” Professor Walsh was beginning to sound irritated too.

“The Powers?” Buffy guessed. “I don’t know!”

“How did you get it?”

“I just did!” Buffy strained against the straps.

“How strong are you, exactly?”

“Strong enough that you are really going to regret not letting me out of these stupid straps!” Buffy bit out, trying to kick with one of her legs.

“As strong as a vampire?” the professor continued, undeterred.

“Stronger,” Buffy twisted one of her feet but it remained stubbornly restrained.

“Because you are a Vampire Slayer? That is your true title, correct?”

“Yep,” Buffy did a little shimmy, trying to get both of her legs in on the action. Nothing happened. She let out a frustrated sigh. “Just let me up, okay?”

“Are you also immortal?”

Buffy was startled into stillness. “What? No!”

“Ah.” The professor looked almost disappointed. “Then what happens when you die?”

Buffy stared at her former professor for a long moment, deciding she was so totally dropping her psych class the minute she got out of this creepy place. She was pretty sure this woman was a lunatic, although she’d have to look up the definition in her textbook to be certain. “Another girl is called,” Buffy said cautiously.

“Who?”

“No one knows.”

The professor gave her a long, searching look that made the hairs on the back of Buffy’s neck stand up. “I see.” Professor Walsh turned on her heel and left the room. Buffy heard the locks on the door activate a moment later. She looked at the silent medical machinery standing sentinel in the corner and shivered before redoubling her efforts to twist out of her restraints.

It wasn’t long before the locks clicked again and she stopped moving, waiting to see who it was, all her muscles tensed. A familiar face loomed over her. Buffy’s eyes widened. “Riley?”

“Hey.” He gave her a tiny smile. “How are you?”

“Uh, strapped to a table in a freakish government lab,” Buffy answered incredulously. “How the hell do you think I am?”

A frown flitted across Riley’s face. “Yeah, sorry about that. The professor just needs to be cautious, you know. You’re the first Slayer we’ve met.”

Buffy almost laughed. “Because I’m the _only_ Slayer!” She fleetingly though of Faith, still sleeping in the dark recesses of Sunnydale Hospital. Buffy decided that she probably shouldn’t tell these people about her sister Slayer yet, even if Faith was kind of evil.

Riley looked confused. “What?”

“There’s only one,” Buffy replied, exasperated. “And I really need to get back to doing my job, so can you let me out of here, please?”

“I can’t, sorry.” Riley sounded regretful, at least. Maybe she could work on him a little more. “Orders.”

Buffy tried to smile at him, hoping her disheveled appearance made her look more helpless damsel than street urchin. He’d seemed really into saving her before she’d announced she was the Slayer. “These straps are really tight.” She pouted and felt her hopes rise as Riley hesitated, looking at her restraints.

Another soldier came barging into the room. “Finn!”

Riley snapped to attention and Buffy felt her hopes vanish like a popped soap bubble. “Sir?”

“They’re ready to begin. We need Subject A.”

“What’s Subject A?” Buffy asked, bewildered, as a couple of guys in lab coats suddenly appeared on either side of her.

“You,” Riley said quietly. She couldn’t see him anymore as they wheeled her down a long, white hallway and she started wondering if she should panic.

***

When Spike came to the second time it didn’t take nearly as long for him to suss out his surroundings. Right then, still caged, have to get out, find the Slayer, get them both away from these quacks. Also possibly he shouldn’t drink the blood. He sighed, irritated. This was getting old, fast.

Spike prowled around the cage, testing the strength of the panels. There was a tiny vent in one corner where he assumed a camera was and a small drain in the floor. Neither was large enough for him to even get a hand in. He tested the glass a few times just to make sure it was still electrified. It was. Another packet of blood dropped from the ceiling. He rolled his eyes and ignored it.

He was sitting on his heels, watching through the glass and wishing for his cigarettes when he heard feet. And gurney wheels. He tensed and stood, barely stopping himself from touching the glass.

This time when they wheeled the Slayer by she had armed guards. Six men in green with weapons and grim faces accompanied three white coats, two with clipboards. Spike stared at her as she met his eyes like she’d been searching for him. This time he knew she was saying his name. She looked relieved.

She also looked like she’d been fighting. Her jeans were covered in blood and viscera and her shirt was torn and bloody. There was a vicious slash over one of her eyes. There was more blood staining her golden hair. He watched helplessly as they wheeled her past, strapped down to the gurney.

Something was very wrong. Humans shouldn’t be doing this to her. Hell, he was pretty sure even demons wouldn’t do this to her. Most didn’t have the brains, and the rest knew that a vengeful Slayer was the deadliest kind. “Slayer,” he said worriedly. He poked the glass for a moment. It looked like she was trying to smile at him and he saw blood in her mouth. The woman doctor from before watched their interaction with interest. He ignored that bitch.

Spike kept watching as they all disappeared from view, counting in his head until her armed escort came jogging back. Then he picked up the bag of blood and casually opened it in front of the camera before turning to block the view of him pouring it carefully down the drain. He stood for a few minutes before collapsing to the floor. He closed his eyes and waited.

***

Buffy blinked her eyes open, disoriented. Her mouth felt like the Sahara. She turned her head and tried not to vomit when her vision swam momentarily. Everything hurt.

“Remarkable recovery time,” a voice nearby said crisply.

Buffy closed her eyes briefly, wishing this was all just a horrible nightmare. She thought it had been, at first, but it just wouldn’t end. Plus, the last time she’d seen Spike he’d looked _worried_ about her. She’d never imagined he would ever look at her like that, even in her dreams. She felt like the last few months had shaken everything she once thought she’d been so sure of. The world didn’t make sense anymore.

Buffy fought back tears before turning towards the voice. “Professor Walsh,” she croaked. God, her throat hurt from all the screaming she’d been doing. She was fairly certain they were keeping her drugged now just so that she’d stop threatening them all.

“Subject A,” the professor said, lifting an eyebrow. “Tell me: can you wiggle your fingers?”

Buffy ignored her. “Why are you doing this?”

The professor sighed. “I told you, we’re testing your responses. Now wiggle your fingers.”

Buffy wiggled. She wanted to make sure her hands worked anyways. They’d strapped her down even tighter this time. Probably because of the incident with the commando right after she’d fought those tentacley demons they’d put in the room with her. She’d been bleeding a lot after the demons had been dispatched and the soldier had probably felt bad for her. Now he would never underestimate her again.

“Very good,” Professor Walsh said approvingly. “Now your toes.”

Buffy sighed and concentrated on her toes. Those were harder to work. “What are you giving me?” she mumbled.

“Oh, just a little cocktail I’m perfecting,” the professor replied. “Although you seem to handle it better than the vampire.” Buffy blinked and went completely still, waiting. The professor was scribbling on her clipboard.

Finally, Buffy couldn’t handle it any longer. “Spike?”

Professor Walsh lifted her eyebrow again. “Is that what you call Hostile 17? Interesting.” There was more writing. “Did you name it?”

“What?” Buffy felt insulted. “No!”

The professor hummed under her breath. “So the creature named itself? Quite sentient then.” There was more scribbling. “How long have you been mating with it?”

Buffy’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god, I have not been _mating_ with Spike!” She could move her arms now. She tried to twist her wrists but couldn’t get any leverage.

Professor Walsh looked puzzled. “Agent Finn said you were quite protective of Hostile 17, and that you seemed rather…close with it.” There was some rustling paperwork.

“We were fighting,” Buffy said sulkily.

“I see,” the professor sounded unconvinced. “And you were not going to, ah, kiss Hostile 17 as Agent Finn thought he observed?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Buffy was going to kill Riley. If she wanted to kiss Spike, she was going to kiss the _hell_ out of him.

She wondered how long they were going to let Spike remain undusty. The Gem wasn’t in her pocket anymore, she’d checked during the commotion of her last failed escape attempt. The professor hadn’t quizzed her about it, so maybe they thought Buffy just had awful taste in jewelry. Maybe she could ask for it back. She had to get the hell out of this freakish demon petting zoo but she wasn’t sure if the vampire would leave without his stupid Gem.

Professor Walsh hummed noncommittally. “I’ve seen Hostile 17 say things when we pass by it,” she said. Buffy had seen it too; he’d called her Slayer and had screamed something that was most likely very crude from the expression of fury on his face when Professor Walsh had drugged her. He needed to be more careful. She was pretty sure these people would dust him without a second thought.

“So?”

“Does it have an extensive vocabulary?”

“What?” Buffy said incredulously. “I don’t know, ask him!”

“It understands English?”

“He _is_ English! Jeez, do you guys not do research?” Buffy saw a flash of annoyance cross the professor’s face and felt a prickle of satisfaction run down her spine.  

“How old is Hostile 17?”

“Like, a hundred and change? I’m not really sure.”

“How long have you known it?”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Um, two and a half years I guess?”

“Is that how long you’ve been mating?”

“With Spike?” Buffy asked, her voice suddenly shrill. “No! I was only sixteen when we met!” She heard a strange, disquieting voice inside of her, whispering that she’d been with Angel when she was only sixteen and that hadn’t seemed strange to her at the time.

“I see.” Professor Walsh made another note.

“He tried to kill me,” Buffy said, desperately trying to get to the end of this conversation. If she answered all of the professor’s insane questions maybe they’d finally let her go. “But, um, he didn’t obviously, and then I thought I killed him but it turned out he didn’t die, and then he left and came back a couple times and I didn’t really have a chance to kill him because there were…uh, circumstances.”

Buffy hated it here. She hated these people and their stupid questions and horrible tests and she wanted to go home. She wanted to research with Giles and hang out with Willow and Xander and god help her she wanted to sit on the bench with Spike and watch the sun set while he stroked her hair and made her feel a thousand times better. “When are you going to let me go?”

Professor Walsh acted as though she hadn’t heard the question. “Is Hostile 17 very strong?”

 “Yes,” Buffy said reluctantly, struggling futilely against her bonds.

“Is that why you can’t kill it?”

“I could so kill him! I just…haven’t yet.”

Professor Walsh eyed her dubiously. “Are there other vampires you’ve fought and haven’t killed?”

“Uh,” Buffy tried to think. “…no.” Even Angel she’d killed once. This line of questioning was starting to get uncomfortable.   

“And it’s never come close to killing you?” 

“Maybe once or twice,” Buffy stared at the bare ceiling, refusing to meet her professor’s eyes. She was so tired. Why wouldn’t these people let her go? “But he didn’t.”

Buffy could clearly remember everything from the first moment Spike had shown up wearing the Gem, which was strange, really. She could barely recall what Parker had said to upset her, but she could recite almost word for word what Spike had said only seconds later. She could picture the way the sun shone down on the vampire’s unnaturally-colored hair, and the gentle way he’d touched her as she’d waited for him to bury his fangs in her neck. He’d let her live, and she still didn’t understand why. Angelus wouldn’t have hesitated.

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Buffy whispered, still staring upwards. She felt a tear slide out of her eyes and across her temple into her hair.

“Interesting.” Professor Walsh looked pleased and Buffy started to feel slightly hopeful.

“Can you let me go now? I really don’t know anything else. You can ask Spike all this stuff.” She hoped they would. The vampire would probably insult them and their mothers and curse them six ways from Sunday. He would drive the professor crazy.

Buffy started to smile at the thought until she saw Professor Walsh pick up a needle again. Buffy desperately tried to twist away. “No, please,” she begged. And then she was drifting once more.


	7. Rock 'n' Roll Rebel

Spike heard them coming. He lay perfectly still and waited while they lifted him off the floor and heaved him onto a gurney like so much trash. He kept his eyes closed, counting the number of heartbeats and listening for distant feet, making sure there wouldn’t be any surprise soldiers around the corner. He had to get this right. The Slayer needed him.

“Another?” One of the humans said, sounding bored. “We’re not going to have any of this kind left.”

The other human chuckled. “I heard the professor’s hoping for more of a Discovery Channel-type show with this one.”

The first one snorted. “Seriously? What a fucking waste of a hot little blonde, even if she’s a vampire killer or whatever.”

Spike froze just as he was about to vamp out. They were taking him to the Slayer?

“Could at least let us have a little fun with her first,” the first voice said sullenly.

“She’s a fucking Subject! Besides, did you hear what happened to Romero?”

Spike heard the human on his left grunt a little as he arranged the vampire’s legs on the table. Spike felt them start placing the straps and made a last minute decision to remain motionless. Might as well let them do the work of finding Buffy in this maze of a lab.

“Oh yeah,” the first voice said glumly. “I heard they had to remove a burst testicle.”

Spike tried very hard to both keep from cupping a hand protectively over his balls, and to stop a laugh from escaping. Sounded like the Slayer was at least making their captives work for it.

The table the vampire was strapped to had one squeaky wheel and the noise was just starting to drive him crazy when the gurney stopped moving. He heard several electronic beeps in quick succession and tensed on the table, searching with his other senses but finding nothing beyond the two humans wheeling him around. They lifted him up and unceremoniously drop him on a cold floor before the door clicked shut.

Spike remained motionless for a bit longer before his impatience got the better of him. He cautiously cracked open one eye and saw nothing but a blank wall, a grey one this time. That was a nice change. He couldn’t hear or smell anything else in the room with him but a sixth sense was screaming in the back of his brain. He was close to the Slayer, he could feel her. Spike carefully scanned the rest of the room from where he was lying, moving his head as little as possible. He was alone for the moment.

“Hostile 17,” a voice crackled from the ceiling, startling him.

Spike gave up being stealthy and got to his feet, leaning insolently against one wall and wishing for the hundredth time he still had his smokes. There was a camera vent in one corner and two doors on opposite walls, one with a small window. He thought about going to look through it but he didn’t want to seem too curious. Maybe they were going to put Buffy in here with him. He would bet she’d be more than willing to strike another truce to get the hell out of this place.

“Hostile 17,” the voice repeated.

Spike looked up at the ceiling in annoyance. “Got a name, you tosser.”

“Proceed through the internal door.” The voice gave no indication it had heard him.

Spike rolled his eyes. “Piss off.”

“Proceed or be forced to proceed, Hostile.” Something whirred and clicked menacingly in the walls. 

Spike sighed and straightened up. Might as well see where the wankers wanted him to go. He could still feel the Slayer. Spike moved to the door with the small window in it, peering into another, bigger, grey room. He made an annoyed face just as something flashed by his vision, the golden streak becoming a familiar fall of hair that he recognized at the same time two more streaks went by, their eyes yellow and fangs extended. Spike almost tore the door off its hinges in his haste to get through it.

Buffy kicked one of the pursuing vamps in the face but the second one managed to get her in a chokehold. She frantically tried to pull its arm away from her throat as it dragged her away from the first vampire, snarling in her ear. She glanced up, looking desperate and exhausted, and caught Spike’s eye. Spike growled at the vamp holding her, making the younger vampire hesitate.

“This one’s ours,” the vampire Buffy had kicked said, picking itself up off the floor and glaring at Spike. Spike sighed and reached out, grasping the fledge by the ears before wrenching its head from its shoulders. Through the cloud of ash he saw Buffy take advantage of the other vampire’s distraction, tossing it over her shoulder and stumbling a little as she attempted to go on the offensive.

“Getting a little sloppy there, Slayer.” Spike said casually. The other vampire inched away from him, keeping an eye on the Slayer as she propped herself up against a wall and cradled one arm. Buffy still had blood in her hair, and it was streaked across her disheveled clothing as well. Her shirt was definitely headed for the scrap pile and one of her boots was missing its heel.

“Spike?” She looked like she didn’t quite believe he was there.

“Hey man, I’m totally willing to share,” the remaining vampire said, eyes darting between Spike and the Slayer.

Spike smiled disarmingly at the other vampire. “Right generous of you, mate.” The other vampire looked hopeful, relaxing as it approached Spike. “Unfortunately.” Spike grabbed the vampire by the collar of its ugly shirt. “I don’t share.” He finished as the vamp’s head was parted from his body. Buffy sank to the floor and looked at him, hope warring with fear on her face.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

Spike shrugged, moving to crouch in front of her. He pushed her bloodied hair gently away from the gash on her head. The wound was crusted over and looked like it had already started to heal. “You’ve been busy.”

Buffy nodded, her eyes wide and watery as she stared at something above him. Spike looked up, noticing for the first time that this new room had a much taller ceiling than the others. He could see white-coats peering down at them through large windows from what looked like a second floor. He glanced around, noticing the blood painted across the walls and the floor. It smelled like it was mostly demon in origin, with bits of human mixed in. He met Buffy’s eyes again. “Your handiwork?”

She nodded and glanced upwards, keeping her voice at a low whisper. “They keep sending more demons in.” She searched his face. “Is that why you’re here?”

Spike tilted his head, regarding her. “Don’t know, Slayer, but I’m not seeing how offing you is going to improve my situation.”

Buffy relaxed a little and Spike realized his hand was still slowly sliding through her hair. The strands were a bit snarled, but it was soft under his fingertips. “Thanks,” she said hoarsely.

Spike moved to settle against the wall next to her and she propped herself up against his shoulder, her head dropping down into the crook of his neck. Spike rested a hand on her knee, fingering a slash in the fabric of her jeans. “What’s the plan, pet?”

Buffy sighed against his neck and he fought a shiver as her warm breath ghosted across his skin. Even now, when she was half-dead from exhaustion and pain, she was beautiful. He wondered how Dru had kept from staking him back when his dark princess had first sussed out his heart’s unfaithfulness. He wondered if he’d have to stake himself for even considering this strange liaison, but more than likely the girl beside him would eventually do that for him. For one brief moment he wished things could be different, but it was too late for him to stop being the evil thing she hunted in the night.

“I’m just gonna rest for a second,” Buffy mumbled against him.

Spike glanced at her in surprise. Wasn’t more than a day or two ago (he thought, it was hard to tell time in this bleeding pit) they’d been fighting to the death and now she was trusting him to watch her back while she napped? Spike considered snapping at her about how stupid she was to let her guard down like that but he realized he didn’t have much room to talk. If she hadn’t distracted him so well out in that field he never would have lost the damn Gem. Instead, he’d starting wanting to _please_ her. He was a disgrace to vampire-kind.

Buffy curled her legs up, her hurt arm tucked against his side and her face against his shoulder. Her body heat seeped through his coat, warming him, and he hesitantly wrapped one arm around her waist, letting her settle more fully against his chest. Something throbbed contentedly inside him and he scowled at the white-coats staring down at them just to make himself feel like less of a ponce.

“Wake me when the next demons come in,” she whispered.

Spike continued to work his fingers through her tangled hair. “Will do, Slayer.” He eyed the multiple doors like the one he’d come through set in one long wall. They all remained closed. The white-coats above them were pointing and taking notes but Spike couldn’t hear what they were saying through the thick glass. He did see the army boy, Riley, standing stiff and alone along the upper level, a little bit removed from the others. Spike smiled predatorily at him and was rewarded with a deep scowl. 

Buffy let out a tiny sigh and Spike glanced down, distracted. He’d hoped they could work together to get out of here, but he’d just have to wait until she was feeling more herself again. He wished he could have seen her fighting whatever they’d pitted her against. She was magnificent in battle. He drew her a little closer, resting his cheek on her golden head. He hadn’t deserved anything from her but a quick and proper staking during their own dance but she’d spared him instead. He wondered why.

“Hostile 17,” the disembodied voice said through a hidden speaker. Spike looked up. This time he could see one of the lab-coats leaning down and talking into a microphone. It was the women who’d stuck the needle in Buffy’s arm. The vampire narrowed his eyes and cradled the Slayer protectively against him. “Proceed with Subject A or be removed.”

Spike smoothed Buffy’s hair as she stirred, angry that they were waking her already. “Shut up, bitch,” he hissed at the air.

“Proceed with the mating or we will send in another.”

Spike’s jaw dropped just as Buffy’s head lifted from his chest. “Oh my god, please tell me I heard that wrong,” Buffy whimpered.

“Uh, ‘fraid not, Slayer.”

“You freaks!” Buffy yelled up at the white-coats, looking more awake now. At least she was regaining some of her fire, Spike noticed, amused. “I told you, we’re not… _ugh_!”

“Well,” Spike drawled as Buffy pushed herself away from him, her face red. He wasn’t sure if it was from anger or embarrassment or a bit of both. “Least they could do is buy us a round before demanding a show.”

Buffy’s face reddened further and Spike grinned. Mostly embarrassment then. “Shut up, Spike.”

Spike stretched his legs out and nudged the Slayer’s knee with his own. “Want to tell me why they seem to think we’d be amiable to, uh…mating?”

Buffy dropped her head into her hands and groaned. “Riley saw us…um, you know, in the field.”

Spike glanced up at where the soldier had been standing. He was gone. Several more white-coats were gathered, however. “Don’t fancy an audience when I perform,” Spike called out, smirking. “Not unless I’m going to be properly compensated.”

“Spike!” Buffy smacked his arm. “He means we’re not going to be doing anything!” Buffy yelled. “With or _without_ an audience.” She shot him a glare.

Spike made an exaggerated sad face, widening his eyes. “But sweetling, you said you wanted to mate with me all night long.”

Buffy’s face was a picture of confusion and she was so red it looked like she might catch fire. “What? I did not!” She scooted away from him, leaning back on her hands. Her breath quickened and her chest was heaving in a way that made Spike’s blood start to pool below the belt.

“Come now, pet,” Spike purred, reaching out to capture one of her ankles and preventing her from moving further. “Why should we put off our pleasure just because these wankers want a free show?” He winked at her and lowered his voice to the barest whisper. “Truce, Slayer.”

She froze and eyed him cautiously as he dragged her back towards him, moving to kneel by her feet and shaking his coat off his arms. He didn’t know why those army idiots hadn’t stripped him but at the moment he was insanely grateful. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned their escape but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. These morons wanted a show and he could work with that.

He crawled up over the sprawled Slayer as Buffy watched him, her eyes wide and nervous. “Um, Spike?” she squeaked.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, grinning. “I’ll protect your virtue.” Then he enveloped them both in his jacket and stretched out full length on top of her.

“Spike!” Buffy gasped, trying to wiggle away.

“Shh,” Spike said into her ear, pinning her arms to the ground. “Be quiet. I need to listen.”

Buffy stopped struggling. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Making them come to us, Slayer.”

“By making out under a coat?”

Spike snorted. “If you’d like, kitten, but I was just planning on making it _look_ like we’re busy under here.”

“Why?” Buffy sounded bewildered.

Spike sighed. “They want to a peep show, remember? Not being able to see us is going to make that one bitch crazy. Let’s see if they’re stupid enough to come and try to catch a peek.”

“Oh,” Buffy relaxed under him and Spike fought to keep from pressing his hardening cock against her thigh. He slowly released her arms and she brought them up to wrap around his neck.

“Slayer?”                                             

“We should probably make it look like we’re not just lying here,” she whispered in his ear. Spike couldn’t see her face in the dim lighting under the leather without bringing out his demon face, and he wasn’t sure how the Slayer would take that. He nodded cautiously and moved his head to one side, trying to find a comfortable spot to rest. Buffy moved with him and he felt her lips on his neck, slowly kissing a path up to his jaw.

“Uh, Slayer?” Spike hoped his voice sounded steadier than he imagined. He could smell the blood in her hair as it tickled his nose, making his fangs itch to descend. She sucked gently on the soft skin under his jaw and he inhaled, ending up with a strand of her bloodied hair into his mouth. She tasted even better than he’d imagined, the underlying flavor of her shampoo mixing with the dried blood in an intoxicating way.

“Hm?” She kept kissing him, nudging his head until he turned so she could nip at his ear with her teeth, making him groan as her hair slipped from between his lips. “Shh,” she whispered. “Keep an ear out.”

Spike inhaled sharply as she sucked on his earlobe and tried to keep from making another sound. He ground his aching cock against her hip and heard her whimper. “Shh,” he said, swallowing a moan. “I’m listening.”

Buffy shifted under him just enough to free one leg, lifting it up to wrap around his hip so that his trapped cock was cradled in the apex of her thighs. He let out a little groan as Buffy nipped at his throat. He couldn’t take any more teasing and turned his head to capture her lips with his. She sighed into his mouth, opening up to him eagerly and tangling their tongues together. He loved the taste of her, all mixed in now with the faint coppery tang of her blood. She’d been punched in the mouth a few times. One of her hands twisted into the short curls along the nape of his neck and pulled him closer as he rocked against her. “Spike,” she gasped, pulled back to catch her breath.

“Need to stop, love,” Spike said hoarsely, regretful. “Little difficult to fight like this.” He ground his hips down again to demonstrate, swallowing her moan with his mouth as she arched up against him.

He heard her breath hitch and then her fingers were sliding up under the hem of his shirt. “Maybe-”

“Hostile 17, Subject A. Uncover or be forcefully separated. You have ten seconds.”

“Fuck.” Spike pressed a hard kiss to Buffy’s mouth. “Another time, kitten.”

Buffy slipped her leg down and sighed, sounding sad. The noise made Spike hope maybe there actually would be a next time. “Do you hear them?” Buffy’s hands were sliding lazily up and down Spike’s back while he concentrated on listening and imagining the unsexiest things he could think of to calm his raging erection. He was halfway through picturing the Master doing a striptease when he heard boots slapping faintly across concrete.

“They’re coming.”

Buffy tensed under him. “Through the doors?”

“Sound like,” Spike whispered. He carefully slipped his arms partway into his jacket sleeves while Buffy held the black leather open around them and braced one foot against the floor. “Ready?”

Buffy lifted her head up and kissed the underside of his jaw. She really was an amazing woman. If he had to be a complete prat about someone, he was glad it was her. “Say the word.”

Spike heard an outer door beeping and opening and feet scrambling into the small holding cell. “They’re close,” he murmured. “Sounds like maybe half a dozen.”

“I’ll take the first three,” Buffy whispered back. He could picture her smile and couldn’t stop his answering grin.

“Only if I don’t take them all out first.”

“No killing, okay?” She sounded suddenly nervous.

Spike looked down at her in surprise, trying to tamp down his demon. She didn’t want these morons dead after what they’d done to her? And was he actually considering her insane request? But she’d promised him more, later, and he didn’t want to give her up, not yet. “I’ll do my best,” he said reluctantly. It wasn’t exactly a promise, and he figured he could wiggle out of it later.

He felt her small hand on his cheek as the inner door beeped electronically, releasing the locks. “Thanks,” she said softly.

Spike bent and kissed her swiftly, sliding his hands the rest of the way into his jacket and springing forward with a roar, bringing out his fangs. Buffy rolled and took out a soldier just as he came through the door. Spike leapt at the soldier nearest him, noticing with disappointment that it wasn’t that idiot, Riley. The vampire landed one good blow before he hit the ground and his entire head lit up with pain. His vision went burry for a moment. Spike clutched his throbbing temples and let out an agonized yell as something connected with his side and an electric shock ran through him.

“Spike!” Buffy was screaming. “Let me go!” Through his haze of pain, Spike saw her throw one of the military boys halfway across the room.

He rolled sluggishly, coming up against a wall and using it to lurch to his feet. Buffy was struggling to break free of one soldier’s grasp while another tased her from behind. She cried out in pain and went limp for a moment before lifting her head weakly. Spike swung wildly at a soldier who sneered as the pain shot through the vampire’s skull again. Spike felt another jolt of electricity course through him. He sank to his knees, jaw snapping at anyone who came near. The last thing he saw was Buffy’s limp body being lifted into the arms of a triumphant Riley before a boot connected with his skull and the world went black.


	8. Breakin' All the Rules

Buffy slowly regained consciousness, her head throbbing and her muscles aching. A sense of despair rolled through her. If she and Spike couldn’t escape this horrible place with their combined efforts, she didn’t know how they were going to get out.

Buffy let go of her last, slim hope that she could talk some sense into Professor Walsh. Even after all the questions Buffy had answered, she’d still been subjected to more “tests”; otherwise known as waves of demons being set against her to see how long her strength would last.

She reined in frustrated tears and concentrated on listening, wondering where she was now. Silence greeted her and she cracked open her eyes, finding herself back in the room with the medical equipment, or at least one just like it. Buffy pulled halfheartedly on the straps keeping her on the table, finding them tighter than ever. At least she’d gotten a few good punches in before they’d knocked her out this time. She shivered and realized she was only covered in a thin hospital gown. She shifted uneasily, wondering where her clothes were.

Buffy frowned, remembering how quickly Spike had gone down. The vampire had been screaming in pain and clutching at his head and Buffy wondered if one of the soldiers had gotten him with holy water. She’d never seen him defeated so fast before. He’d still been attempting to fight when she’d last seen him and she hoped he hadn’t been dusted. The professor seemed inordinately interested in Spike so Buffy wanted to believe that they’d kept him alive.

She heard the beeps that meant someone was opening her door and closed her eyes, willing whoever it was to leave her alone. The door closed softly and she heard footsteps crossing the room. The smell of something hot and possibly edible wafted in her direction, making her stomach growl and her eyes pop back open.

“Hey.” Riley smiled at her, his white teeth glinting in the dim lighting. “Thought you might like some chow.”

Buffy turned her head to see a mush of food she couldn’t identify but desperately wanted. “Yes, please.”

Riley’s grin widened. “Great.” She watched as he dragged a chair closer to her before settling into it. Buffy waited for him to undo one of her straps but he just fiddled with the gurney she was strapped to until she was partially propped up and able to see him a bit better. “Open wide.” He lifted a forkful of something to her mouth. Buffy didn’t oblige him.

“Can’t you just let me have one hand?”

Riley looked disappointed. “I can’t, Buffy, I’m sorry.” He lifted the food to her mouth again and she opened it with a sigh, chewing the unidentified food with a gusto she usually reserved for desserts. She couldn’t remember eating at all since she’d been trapped down here.

“How long have I been here?”

Riley shifted uncomfortably and lifted another forkful to her mouth. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead of answering her question. “Did it hurt you?”

“What?” Buffy asked, bewildered.

“Hostile 17.” Riley’s expression turned thunderous. “I told Maggie not to put it in there with you. I’m glad we got to you in time.”

“In time?” Buffy took another forkful of food, trying to figure out what Riley was talking about. “In time for what?”

“You know.” Riley stared at the container he was holding. “Before it…did anything to you.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she finally understood what he was implying. She supposed Spike dragging her under his coat must have looked pretty sinister, considering what Professor Walsh had expected. Buffy was glad her mouth was full so she had time to think of an answer. “Oh, um, yeah, thanks.”

Riley looked relieved and Buffy decided she’d answered correctly. “Good,” Riley said, obviously satisfied. Maybe he could help her find a way out of here, although she guessed he wouldn’t be too keen on helping Spike. At the very least, Riley could probably provide her with information.

“Riley,” Buffy started cautiously. “Why are you keeping me here?”

Riley paused with the fork halfway between the food and Buffy, making her strain to reach it. “I’m not in charge, Buffy. You’re a guest of The Initiative until you’re not.”

Buffy’s appetite faded. “Guest?” she repeated disbelievingly. “Guest implies I’m free to leave, which, clearly, is so not the case.” She yanked at her bonds and scowled.

Riley stood abruptly. “We’re just trying to help you, okay? I have to report back. I’m glad you’re all right.”

Buffy blinked at him in astonishment. “Yeah, I’m just peachy keen, laying here strapped to a table. Seriously, how is this helpful?”

Riley left the room without a backwards glance and Buffy deflated. Maybe next time she should work on not starting an argument before extracting information. She thunked her head back against the table, thoroughly frustrated.

Buffy stared up at the ceiling and thought about the silly posters her dentist used to tack up above the reclining chairs for his patients’ amusement. They could put up one showing a vampire kitty hanging from a branch saying: “Fang in there!” Maybe The Initiative had a suggestion box. She was just starting to drift off into a normal, non drug-induced sleep when the door swung open again and she was suddenly wide awake.

Professor Walsh came in with a gaggle of white-coats, followed by two soldiers Buffy vaguely recognized. “That was quite a display you put on,” the professor said briskly.

Buffy shifted under her gaze and glanced at the two soldiers who took up positions on either side of the only door to the room. She was sure she’d seen them before. “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said sarcastically.

“I’m far from disappointed.” Professor Walsh took the chair Riley had vacated, setting her ever-present clipboard on her knee. She reached over and Buffy tried to shrink back from the needle the professor was holding. That didn’t stop the woman from sinking it into a vein and Buffy bit her lip to keep from crying out her frustration. She waited for the familiar blackness to swallow her but it didn’t come. She frowned at Professor Walsh. “What was that?”

“Just a little something to help you along,” The professor said vaguely. “Does the Slayer always mate with a vampire?”

“What?” Buffy sputtered. “I don’t- You’re crazy!”

The professor made a notation. “You said the Slayer is always female?”

Buffy glared at the others in the room before deciding that was a fairly harmless question. “Yes.”

“So there have never been male Slayers.”

“No.”

“But you’re not entirely human, so you’d seek the same in a male, correct?”

The professor glanced up at Buffy, who opened and closed her mouth several times before replying: “I am too a human!”

The professor lifted her eyebrows. “I’ve never met another human with your abilities.” Buffy glared at her. “You’ve been the Slayer for four years?”

“Yes.” Buffy was relieved to be on familiar ground.

Professor Walsh paused for a moment, looking at her notes. “Have you been mating with vampires since you were fifteen?” One of the soldiers by the door made a noise of disgust, his lip curling. Buffy squirmed uncomfortably.

“Gates,” Professor Walsh said sharply. The soldier schooled his face back to a neutral expression

“No.” Buffy scowled. Seventeen, actually, she wanted to say, just to see their reactions. It hurt to hear this woman inadvertently degrade what, at the time, she’d thought had been her only chance at love and happiness. Buffy thought of Spike again, hoping he was all right.

“Do all Slayers take a vampire mate? Or can it be any demon?”

Buffy glared up at the blank ceiling, refusing to look at the professor. “You’re sick.”

“I’m not the one copulating with Hostiles,” Professor Walsh said calmly.

The soldiers by the door glanced at one another and Buffy felt their gazes shift to the thin gown covering her body. She wanted nothing more in that moment than to cover herself. Professor Walsh was freaking her out but Buffy didn’t want to give her former teacher the satisfaction of knowing she might be a teensy bit right. There was nothing to be ashamed of, Buffy told herself. Angel had possessed a soul and Spike…well, Spike was different. Buffy averted her eyes and set her jaw.

“Have there been offspring?”

“What? No!” Buffy blurted, giving more away than she’d intended.

Professor Walsh looked disappointed. “No?”

“Vampires can’t have children,” Buffy said firmly. 

Professor Walsh sighed. She gestured at the other people in lab coats who were frantically scribbling on their clipboards. One of them produced a bevy of vials and a syringe, empty this time. The professor took them without comment.

Buffy watched with detachment as Professor Walsh drew vial after vial of blood from a vein in her arm. At the sixth with no signs of stopping, she looked up at her former teacher a wan smile. “Who’s the bloodsucker now?” The professor gave her a stern look before pausing to administer another dose of the drug that sent Buffy into sweet oblivion.

***

Spike found himself back in his cell when he awoke. He hadn’t really expected to wake up at all, unless he was in hell, so the cell was almost a pleasant surprise. He managed to drag himself closer to the glass before slumping against one of the non-electrified walls and waiting. He drifted in and out of consciousness, his head throbbing, but they didn’t roll her past. He didn’t know what that meant. The last thing he remembered was that idiot soldier boy holding her like he had some proprietary right. Spike wanted to tear him limb from limb.

A blood bag dropped from the ceiling at some point and Spike spent a long time debating the benefits of the blood versus the downsides of the drugs. He finally decided he could pull the fake unconsciousness trick again after his brain stopped doing the cha-cha behind his eyeballs and sank his teeth into the bag, welcoming the blackness.

The next time he awoke there were more people in the hall than he remembered ever having seen before. He got up, stretching his stiff limbs—would it kill them to put a simple cot in these rooms?—and moved toward the glass. Riley walked past, his expression angry. He spared a glance at Spike and the vampire saw the boy’s lip curl. Spike smiled, bringing out the barest hint of fang, making sure the soldier saw it. Riley jerked his eyes away and continued on until he was out of sight. Spike would bet his precious duster that the army moron had just come from seeing the Slayer. If he’d hurt her, Spike would kill him. Very slowly. Angelus’ tricks were good for some things, after all.

Spike crouched in a corner and observed the white-coats wandering the halls, clipboards in hand, while the soldiers marched to and fro. If it weren’t for the demons in cages all around it might almost be a normal, boring military base. The woman he’d seen before, the one who seemed to show up whenever Buffy went by, stopped in front of his cage and contemplated him. Spike watched her carefully, wondering what she wanted from them. Even the Nazis hadn’t really been into the kinky stuff, and they were _Nazis._

She pressed something by his door and her voice filled his cell. “Hostile 17.” Spike didn’t reply. He didn’t think she really expected him to. “Subject A tells me vampires can’t have children. Is this true?”

Spike lifted his eyebrows. She’d had a little tête-à-tête with the Slayer about vampire children? “Not in the usual way,” he drawled lazily. He was having trouble sussing this one out. The soldiers he got; the other white-coats, sure. But this one, she made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. She reminded him of someone but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The woman looked interested. “But you can?” she asked eagerly. “With any human? Or does is have to be a Slayer?”

Spike decided he really didn’t want to know why she was so interested in vampire baby-making. Thank god it wasn’t possible. “We can turn humans. Slayers are usually off the table, too unpredictable.”

“Turn?” She was frowning now, less happy.

“Make them vampires?” Spike would have thought she was smart enough to figure that out.

“Oh.” The woman whirled and marched away without so much as a goodbye and Spike snorted. Well, he had better things to worry about than one odd doctor. He had a cell to escape and a Slayer to spring. He still wasn’t sure what, exactly, had gone wrong during the last attempt, except that his head had suddenly felt like it was going to explode before he’d managed to get a good fight going. Spike frowned and hoped that wouldn’t happen again.

The next time a blood bag was dropped into his cell Spike moved with practiced leisure, picking it up and nicking it with his fangs before carefully sending the red liquid down the drain, hopefully looking for all the world like he was enjoying a nice meal. He hadn’t seen much activity in a while but he knew he’d piqued the interest of that woman doctor and he figured she wouldn’t be able to pass up the opportunity to strap him down and interrogate him.

Spike moved a little closer to the glass, smacking it with one hand to draw their attention before dropping the empty blood bag and collapsing to the ground. He lay still for a long time, glad he didn’t have to worry about silly human things like breathing and blood circulation.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he heard the squeaky wheel of his least favorite gurney and two sets of feet. The humans were bored too, he could tell from their steady heart rhythms. They opened his door without speaking and flopped the unresponsive vampire onto their table. One of them made a grunting noise as he attempted to get Spike’s feet in a better position for the restraints and Spike’s eyes snapped open, already yellow.

The humans didn’t even notice Spike had put on his game face until the vampire sat up on the table, his fangs extended. The humans’ heartrates picked up immediately as Spike grinned at them before leaping down from the gurney and grasping one by the shirt collar. “Morning, gents.” The first one went down with little effort, falling against the electric glass of one of the cages and not moving again, but the second was squirrely and started screaming. Spike finally landed a decent punch, listening to the satisfying crunch of bone before the pain burst behind his eyes and he went down too.

Spike stayed on his hands and knees until the agony in his head was more manageable and then he scrambled through the pockets of the nearest unconscious white-coat. He found the card he was looking for and prayed he could stay on his feet long enough to find his Slayer. He heard thumping boots heading his way and stumbled down the hall. Demons started stirring, watching him pass.

He hoped he was counting his steps right. He reached thirty-eight and stopped. She should be nearby. The vampire braced himself against a wall and looked around. More cages, more demons…and an unmarked door. The card opened it and he slipped inside.

There she was, lying in a bed and looking even tinier than usual. She was dressed in a hospital gown and appeared sickly pale under the harsh lighting. She was lying too still, he thought worriedly. Even when he’d told her she was missing her fire she’d been more alive than this. “Slayer?” he said quietly. He could hear her heartbeat, steady and strong. Hurried footsteps passed by in the hall and he moved to stand beside her bed.

“Come on, Slayer, time to wake up,” he muttered, watching the door. He cast his eyes around the room, not seeing the clothes she’d been wearing when they were taken.  He was going to kill them all, he decided again, just as soon as his headache cleared up. “Slayer,” he said, a little louder. He saw her eyelids flutter.

“That’s it, open those eyes. Cavalry’s here but might need some backup.” He started undoing the straps holding her down. Damn, the bloody soldiers had cinched them so tight she was probably losing circulation. “Come on, kitten. No time for a lie-in.” He massaged her hands briefly, feeling her fingers twitch.

Spike looked at the door again, feeling the seconds slip away. They had to move soon. He looked back. Her eyes were open. “Spike?” she said hoarsely.

“Slayer,” he said quietly, taking a moment to brush her hair back from her face. Even nearly unconscious and covered in dried blood she was beautiful. Though the blood was probably a bit more of a turn on for a vampire than your average bloke, he supposed. “I was thinking of leaving this hellhole, care to join me?”

He watched her try to smile and felt himself return it. She reached up with a shaky hand and touched his face. “Hey,” she whispered. She looked so happy to see him. He wanted to kiss her, wanted to promise her anything in that moment. He contented himself with pressing his cheek against the palm of her hand and helping her swing her legs off the bed.

“Gotta move,” he said again. “Someone’s bound to stumble-” The door burst open just as he managed to get the Slayer sitting upright on the bed and the great bulk of Spike’s least favorite soldier came into the room.

“Riley,” the Slayer rasped.

“Hostile 17,” Riley said, ignoring her.

“Spike, mate,” the vampire corrected, moving around the bed to stand between the soldier and the Slayer. “Come to escort us off the premises?”

Riley narrowed his eyes and stepped further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. Spike let out a relieved breath. The soldiers would all be looking for an escapee near the exits, not in here. Except, apparently, this one. Spike tilted his head at the boy in front of him.

“Bit captivated by the Slayer, are we?” the vampire purred, taking another step. “Think she’ll give you the time of day after this? It’s not exactly the Ritz.”

“Get away from Buffy,” Riley said grimly. Spike heard the Slayer’s bare feet hit the floor behind him.    

“I’m not sure if you’re aware, but this is an invite-only kind of party,” Spike said, tonguing one fang. He’d forgotten he was still in game face. The Slayer hadn’t even flinched. It made his insides feel all warm. “Don’t remember you being on the guest list.”

Spike watched with interest as the soldier clenched his fists, his face set in a scowl. “She doesn’t care about you.” Riley said scornfully. “She kills your kind.” The boy took a swing at him. Spike ducked under the first blow, getting Riley in the gut as he went by, but the vampire’s head exploded with pain again and Spike found himself gasping on the floor, his fangs slipping away.

“Behavioral modification chip seems to be working,” Riley said in satisfaction as Spike tried to clear his vision. The vampire felt a boot connect with his ribs. He winced and fell back, waiting for another blow.

“Riley,” Buffy said, her voice cracking. “Please, stop.” Riley turned to her, hesitating.

“What chip?” Spike asked in irritation, regaining his feet and pressing a hand to his aching head. He moved around Riley warily, trying to get between the soldier and the Slayer.

“You can’t hurt her, can’t hurt any humans,” Riley said, satisfaction in his voice.

“Riley, what did you do?” Buffy whispered, standing on shaky legs. She was gripping the edge of the bed so tightly that her knuckles were white under the scrapes and lacerations. Spike felt rage boiling up inside him. They’d hurt his Slayer, damaged her lovely flesh, and made it so he couldn’t touch them.

“The Initiative is using brain implants to keep Hostiles, like this one, from killing. We’re saving people, Buffy.” Riley lifted his chin proudly.

Spike managed to circle around, slipping in front of the Slayer. Fuck, his head felt like it was going to burst. He’s seen it happen once before when, mostly out of curiosity, he’d shoved a man in front of a train. He wished he could do the same to this git just then. “I’m going to kill you,” Spike growled, clenching his hands into fists.

“I’d like to see you try, 17,” Riley said, smirking.

Spike felt the Slayer brace herself against him and reached back to wrap an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. “How’s it coming, Slayer?” he said, not taking his eyes off the boy’s face. “Feeling a bit steadier?” Buffy settled her head against his shoulder, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping herself upright.

“Sure,” she said hoarsely. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be kicking some butt.” Spike felt her grasp the front of his shirt.

“Why are you letting it touch you?” Riley looked confused.

Buffy just looked at him sadly. She was trying to hold the back of her gown closed with one hand, Spike saw.

The vampire frowned and held her up with one arm while he shrugged out of his duster. “Here now, Slayer,” he said in concern, draping it over her shoulders. She slid her arms into the sleeves and looked up at him gratefully. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Spike snarled as the soldier advanced on them. “I can’t allow you to leave,” Riley said grimly.

“Riley,” Buffy’s voice faltered as the soldier barked a series of codes into a radio. “I thought you wanted to help me?”

“We are!” Riley insisted, glaring at Spike. “I told you, we’ve figured out how to stop Hostiles from killing people, just like you’re supposed to.” The vampire heard the scorn in the soldier’s voice.

“Supposed to?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last four years?”

Riley made a disgusted face. “I’m sure I don’t want to know.”

Spike lifted his eyebrows at the boy’s implication. Yeah, this one was going to die nice and slow. No quick neck snapping or draining for him. How the hell did the Slayer even find these morons?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Buffy asked, her voice tight.

“The Slayer’s supposed to kill Hostiles, not…whatever you’ve been doing with it.” Riley said grimly.

“Oh my god, what I do is none of your damn business!”

“Hostiles are my business,” Riley replied calmly. “And if you’re not going to do your job then we’ll have to do it for you. Maggie said you might be able to help us, once you’ve been rehabilitated.”

“ _Rehabilitated_?” Buffy’s voice was just shy of hysterical. “You’re all insane!” Buffy was clutching the vampire tightly as they edged toward the door, her steps uneven and shaky. Spike had a firm arm around her waist, keeping her upright. They’d really done a number on his Slayer.

“Get out of the way,” Spike growled as Riley blocked the only exit. Riley just shook his head. Spike clenched his fist, hearing Buffy take a deep breath beside him. He let her step forward, her small hand in a fist as well.

“Move,” she said, her voice belying the weakness of her body. “Or I will move you.” Spike felt his chest swell with pride. She was a glorious warrior, the lovely girl on his arm. These quacks would never understand that, not like he did.

Riley took one menacing step forward as Spike tried to discretely prop up Buffy so she could clock the idiot boy in the face, but it was too late.

The door burst open and men in green came swarming in with their shock guns and squawking radios, surrounding the vampire as he crushed the Slayer into an embrace, his fangs slipping out again. Buffy clung to him, her face buried in his chest. Her breath was coming short and fast as she trembled in his arms. “No, please,” she whimpered so quietly that he knew he was the only one to hear it.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he whispered into her tangled hair. He hated them all. Hated them for making him weak, hated them for making him useless to her. And he hated that they’d made her feel helpless when she was the strongest Slayer he’d ever known. He was going to rip them all into tiny, bloodied shreds. Right after he made them take out the sodding implant.

The woman doctor who seemed to be in charge of the place came marching in, her eyes flashing. Something passed across her face when she saw the two of them together. If Spike didn’t know any better, he would say she looked almost gleeful.

“Well,” the woman said. “You two continue to surpass my expectations.”

“Please, Professor,” Buffy’s voice was small and quiet. Spike glanced at the Slayer in surprise. She knew this woman? “Please, don’t do this.”

The woman blinked dispassionately before lifting her hand and making a motion that Spike knew didn’t bode well. “I’m afraid you’re much too valuable to part with, Subject A.”

Spike felt something prick the back of his neck just as Buffy cried out, jerking in his arms. She slumped down until he was supporting her entire weight. “Buffy,” Spike said urgently, his vision starting to blur. He sank to his knees, still cradling her in his arms. A soldier crept a little too close and almost lost a hand to Spike’s snapping fangs. The taste of fresh blood in the vampire’s mouth almost made up for the searing pain rocketing through his skull. “Stay away from her,” he snarled. He struggled to remain conscious.

“Prepare him for the procedure” He heard the woman Buffy called professor say. “Take her to the gallery.”

Spike curled his body around the Slayer as they collapsed to the floor, making one last attempt to keep her away from the surrounding monsters.


	9. No Easy Way Out

Buffy woke up with tears already leaking out of the corners of her eyes. She tried to gasp at the strange pain in her abdomen but there was a tube in her mouth preventing her from taking a deep breath. She glanced down, seeing a masked doctor hunched over her belly. There was fresh blood on the scalpel in the doctor’s hand.

“Administer another dose of anesthesia.” Professor Walsh’s irritated voice floated out from behind the mask.

Buffy groaned as something pinched down low inside of her.

A needle slid into the crook of her elbow, making another mark among the dozens littering her arms. She was bruised everywhere and the hospital gown was bunched uncomfortably under her armpits. She flicked her eyes upward and saw she was in another one of those viewing rooms like the one where she’d fought demons. She tried to move, wanting to cover herself, but couldn’t control her body. White-coated people were milling around above her, taking notes and talking amongst themselves while they watched her through the windows like she was the movie of the week, not the subject of some unauthorized operation.

Something nearby started beeping more rapidly, the sound echoing in the large room. Professor Walsh picked up a syringe filled with something Buffy couldn’t identify.

“I said: administer the anesthesia,” the professor snapped.

“I did, Ma’am,” someone out of Buffy’s sight replied, sounding distressed.

The professor sighed as she pressed the plunger down, injecting Buffy with the contents. Buffy shuddered with relief as the pain slowly faded and she blessedly passed out once more.

***

When she awoke again Buffy had to steel herself before she opened her eyes, preparing for the strangers who’d be staring at her nudity, but there was only a low ceiling above her. She almost cried in relief but she was sick and tired of crying. She lay there for a long minute, feeling her body slowly coming awake. Every part of her hurt. Her wrists and ankles were raw and sore and her abdomen was on fire. A familiar tingle crawled across the back of her skull. 

Buffy cringed as she shifted, bringing her hand to her face automatically before gawping, openmouthed, at her fingers. She was free! She sat up so suddenly that her vision swam and she nearly passed out again, steadying herself on one arm while squeezing her eyes shut until the dizziness passed. The pain in her abdomen ratcheted up to volcanic and she spent a moment trying to will it away, taking deep, calming breaths. Finally, she reopened her eyes.

She wasn’t back in her room. She was in a cell.

Buffy took in the empty room and stark white walls in dismay. At least now she knew what they truly thought of her. One wall was clear. She could see a hall beyond, though she knew it was fruitless to try and break through the glass. She’d seen Spike brave the electricity whenever she’d passed by him. She crawled closer to the large window, her joints humming with anguish as she moved. She paused on her slow trek, carefully touching her aching lower belly. She wondered what Professor Walsh had done. Buffy had a sick feeling it had a lot to do with all of the questions about mating and vampires. She finally reached the edge of her new domain.

Buffy lifted a tentative hand to the glass, wincing and pulling back as the faintest buzz started in her fingertips when she was still an inch away from the clear surface. She sat, legs curled up on one side, leaning on the arm that hurt the least. The floor was cold under her bare limbs and she shivered. She wished she could have Spike’s coat back, but at least they’d left her the hospital gown.

Buffy finally focused on the other cells, her gaze lifting from her own confines. Her heart skipped a beat.

Spike.

He was kneeling in the cell across from hers, his legs folded underneath him and his knees spread wide. His hands were curled into fists on the floor just in front of him. He was bare-chested, his hair a wild tangle. His lower half was covered in a pair of green scrubs and she could see the bare soles of his feet. His stare was intense, his eyes a pale blue flame in the florescent lighting.

Buffy found herself leaning forward until her nose crackled with an electrical warning. She put up her free hand, letting it hover by her shoulder, wishing she could rest it against the glass. “Spike.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat aching. She wondered if she’d been screaming or if she was just dehydrated. Spike continued to meet her gaze steadily. At least she wasn’t alone.

Something thunked on the floor behind her, making Buffy whirl and lose her balance. She felt her teeth rattle as her shoulder hit the hard floor and she tried to catch her breath, leaning her forehead against the cool concrete. The noise had only been a small container. She recognized it as the same kind that Riley had been holding the time he’d brought her food. It didn’t smell like this one had been heated, though.

When she managed to get herself to a sitting position once more she paused, looking at Spike. The vampire had lifted himself up onto his knees just inside the glass of his cage, his fists tightly clenched. He was wearing that strange, worried expression on his face. She must look like hell. She tried to smile at him, lifting a hand to show she was all right.

She crawled over to retrieve the food, awkwardly holding onto her gown to keep it from falling open. Her toes were going numb from cold. Shivering, she grabbed the little box and slowly made her way to the side of her cell, leaning gratefully against the wall while staying as close to the glass as she could. She watched Spike slowly slide across his empty room, mirroring her movements until he, too, reached a corner. He watched as she tried to eat with trembling, clumsy fingers, his head leaning against one white wall.

Finally, Buffy gave up and dropped the unappetizing meal to the ground, pulling her knees up to her chest and tucking the edge of her gown under her toes. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested a cheek on one knee. Spike was still watching her. He looked as tired as she felt. She stared back until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore.

***

They all wanted to die. Slowly and painfully and begging for mercy.

That was the only reason Spike could think of for them to torture him this way. Buffy was curled up on her side at the moment, her small body shaking even in sleep. He could see his Slayer now, watch over her as she slept, but there was bugger all else he could do. They’d made him useless, taken away his fangs and fists. How could he fight with a damn chip in his head? He couldn’t even get out of his sodding cage. The days had all started to bleed together.

They’d moved her in and out of her cell almost a dozen times since she’d first been placed there, and the last few times they’d allowed her to have a blanket. She must be behaving. Spike was seething. He wanted to howl his outrage but didn’t think it would do much good at the moment. What he really needed was some time alone with that white-coat bitch. The chip would give him an awful migraine for killing her, but the pain would be worth it if he could take her out fast enough.

Spike only saw that woman now when they came to take Buffy away, strapping his Slayer to a gurney with a minimum of fuss and wheeling her out under that bitch of a doctor’s watchful eye. The woman hadn’t tried to speak with him again. He wasn’t sure what her scheme was, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was figuring out how to get to Buffy followed by how to get out of this place.

They were killing her by degrees. Every time they brought his Slayer back from whatever godforsaken place they took her to she looked thinner, her eyes more haunted. Her hair went from glossy to flat, the golden strands losing their luster. He didn’t think she was being made to fight anymore, but the bruises over her veins steadily worsened. It made him want to scream with frustration. She didn’t belong down here with these spineless gits. She was everything bright and good and they were _ruining_ her.

Sometimes—in his more calm moments when Buffy was sleeping and no white-coats had bothered her for a while—Spike would remember all the things he’d said, all the times he’d told her he was going to kill her, and he wished he could take it all back. The world would be a dismal place without her in it. Maybe he was an evil creature of the night, but he had his standards, and these fuck-wits were screwing with forces they didn’t understand.

He’d taken to eating the bare minimum of blood to keep his demon at bay, only slipping into darkness every third time or so his Slayer was taken away. They hadn’t bothered with him, not since the second escape attempt. He wasn’t sure what had happened to him between falling asleep and waking during that particular chunk of blackness, but he’d woken up sore in places that made him panic and check to be sure they hadn’t taken something even more important than his ability to defend himself. Everything had appeared intact, so he’d pushed it from his mind.

They’d gotten smarter too, finally taking the rest of his clothes and leaving him only with a thin pair of hospital-type pants. He couldn’t feel the cold, but he knew they must keep it cool down here from the way the Slayer shook in her sleep. He wondered what they’d done with his duster and why they hadn’t let his girl keep it.

Buffy was lying on her side, cocooned in the ugly green blanket they’d given her. Her eyes were half-open and she was watching him. She mouthed his name sometimes, usually when she first woke up, like she was relieved to still see him there. He remained as vigilant as he could, watching over her and trying not to go round the bend from bottling up his rage at these pseudo-soldiers.

At least Spike hadn’t seen that Riley wanker in a while, maybe the idiot had finally gotten the message. Buffy was his Slayer, and no one else’s. When they got out of this place the vampire was going to make sure all these tossers knew it, even if he had to spell it out in their own bloody entrails. No one was ever going to hurt her again, not as long as he was unliving.

***

Buffy obediently lay still on the table as they strapped her down. She’d lost track of how many times they’d done this. Professor Walsh sighed like she was also getting a little tired of repeating the procedure, and gestured at one of the other white-coats. Buffy never heard them refer to each other as doctor or nurse and she wondered, not for the first time, why these people were so interested in freaky vampire genetics. 

Buffy hardly even flinched anymore when the professor picked up the syringes. She understood what they were attempting now, and though Buffy thought about telling them again that it was completely impossible, she wasn’t sure what would happen to her or Spike. So she kept her mouth shut.

“The blood work is still negative,” Professor Walsh said, exasperated. “Did you do what I asked?”

“To the exact specifications, Ma’am.” The assistant hovering at the professor’s elbow sounded nervous.

“This isn’t working.” Professor Walsh tossed all the implements aside and snapped off her gloves, rubbing her forehead. Buffy felt the ghost of a smirk cross her face. “What am I missing?”

“Uh.” The assistant’s eyes widened dramatically. “N-nothing, I’m sure, Ma’am.”

“There must be something!” Professor Walsh narrowed her eyes and Buffy held perfectly still, not making eye contact. The more she pretended to be invisible the more they ignored her. The professor moved so that she was staring down at Buffy’s face. “What am I missing?” Buffy didn’t answer, hoping she wasn’t really supposed to.

Professor Walsh sighed and picked up the large syringe that Buffy knew signaled the final part of her visit. By this time she was inured to the sight of the people in lab coats peering down at her half-naked body as the professor performed whatever experiments were deemed necessary to create some kind of hybrid demon-child.

Buffy wondered if they all went home at the end of the day to their families, and if they ever thought of her as they went grocery shopping or hugged their children. Did they know she was human too? Did they care? She hadn’t felt this alone since she’d first been Called. She been given the duty of protecting humanity from evil, but the Powers had messed up and forgotten to make sure she was safe, too.

She missed the feel of sunshine on her face and the sound of laughter. She missed Giles and the way he rolled his eyes when she was being particularly stubborn. She missed Willow’s quirky sweaters and Xander’s bad jokes. She missed everything about her mom. She would give anything to wake up tomorrow morning in her childhood bed and have this all be just a horribly vivid Slayer dream.

She’d had a lot of time to think since the professor had started leaving her alone in her cell for hours or days at a time, and she was starting to revisit all those moments when Giles had insisted that demons were pure evil. Even Angel had given her that speech a time or two. She wondered what Giles would say now if he could see what these humans were doing to her and to the other caged demons—some of which were missing various limbs—she’d seen when they transported her around the halls. Everything without a soul was evil, through and through, Giles had insisted. Like Angelus had been.

And yet, there was Spike. He’d spent weeks following her around, saying he would kill her at the first opportunity, while demonstrating (possibly not in the best way) more compassion than any of the humans who surrounded her now. The vampire was the first thing she looked for when she woke up alone and aching on the floor of her cage and was the last thing she saw when she closed her eyes. Spike had come to help her when he’d tried to escape, something even Riley, a human with a soul, wouldn’t do. It flew in the face of everything she thought she knew.

It was the soul that changed him, Angel had insisted. Without it he was only a demon, and incapable of deep emotion. But she’d had a lot of time to think about Angelus too, and hadn’t he been a bit…zealous in his pursuit of her? Oh, Angelus didn’t love her, she was convinced of that, but perhaps that was because he was more in love with cruelty and torment. She wondered what else Angel was hiding behind his all-important soul.

Professor Walsh was giving some nearby assistant instructions and casting speculative glances at Buffy that were making her slightly nervous. Buffy had almost gotten used to this terrible routine. Change usually meant more pain. She tensed on the table and tried to look uninterested and lifeless.

“Well,” Professor Walsh came closer to her. “Perhaps the demon’s body mechanics differ from what we’re used to. I think more observation is in order.”

Buffy was still trying to puzzle out what that meant when they wheeled her away, the two men steering her gurney ignoring her completely. The professor had perfected the amount of sedation to give her by now, keeping Buffy in a strange, twilight world of never quite awake, never quite asleep, as she was transported back and forth. She sometimes had a hard time remembering what it felt like to be clearheaded.

Several men in green went by and she wondered if she’d imagined them or if they’d been real. She drifted until she heard the Velcro tearing sound that signaled her straps were coming off. They always freed her feet first. When she mustered up the energy for another escape attempt they would really regret that habit. She lay there limply as they undid the remaining straps and lifted her from the table, setting her on the floor butt-first as one lab assistant held her arms while the other took her legs. She was used to this particular humiliation, too.

A green blanket was dropped on the ground next to her and she frowned. Didn’t she already have a blanket? She was almost giddy at the thought of having two. She was always so cold. She clutched the blanket to her chest and turned to gaze out the window as the clear glass slid shut with a quiet hiss. All the breath left her lungs.

He wasn’t there.

There was nothing there. Only the blank, solid wall of a hallway stared back, mocking her. She was in a different cell.

Buffy scooted as quickly as she could over toward the corridor. She knelt in front of the glass, pulling the blanket into her lap and peering in the direction the soldiers had gone. What had happened? What had they done with Spike? She should have lied. She should have told Professor Walsh that she would have as many demon babies as that crazy bitch wanted, as long as they didn’t dust Spike. Maybe the professor finally understood that Buffy couldn’t give her what she wanted.

Buffy didn’t know she was weeping until the sound of sobbing reached her ears and she realized it was coming from her. Spike was the only thing she had left of her life before this place, and now he was gone. She willed for him to appear, squeezing her eyes tightly shut before opening them again. She remained alone. Buffy smacked the glass with an open hand, feeling anger for the first time in a long time. She hissed as the electricity burned her palm, shaking her hand out and absently sucked on her sore fingers.

Buffy wrapped herself in the blanket and stared vacantly at the opposite wall, wondering if they’d kill her now that they’d apparently decided she was useless. A new noise jerked her from her stupor. Buffy froze, suddenly realizing the tingles on the back of her neck was stronger than they usually were. Her heart sank. She wasn’t alone in her cell. They’d already disposed of her, she just hadn’t noticed. Buffy sighed, resigned to her fate. She hoped it would be quick. She didn’t have the energy for a long, drawn out fight. She slowly turned around.

It was Spike.

She blinked, but he was still there, sprawled on his back on the floor of the cell, his demon mask at the forefront.

Buffy stared, her mouth hanging open. She almost collapsed as she realized that he wasn’t dust. Slowly, trying to keep her weight off her burned palm, she crawled over to him. He looked pale and thin, even for a vampire, the scrubs he was wearing riding low on his bony hips. She curled up on the floor next to him and covered herself with the blanket, flipping one end of it over the vampire. She laid her head on his still chest and closed her eyes, relief coursing through her. He wasn’t dust and she was still Buffy. They could work out the rest when they woke up.


	10. Desire

Spike slowly regained consciousness, catching a scent that'd been haunting his dreams. He felt something solid and heavy on his chest and wondered if they’d taken him away to experiment on while he was asleep again. Something tickled his nose and he swatted at it, annoyed. He cracked open his eyes and wondered if he’d gone mad.

Buffy was right there, curled up next to him and sharing her scratchy blanket. The skin under her eyes was so dark it looked bruised and her hair was still pink in spots from the blood those damn white-coats never bothered to wash out. Under the stink of sweat and fear he could still pick out her unique essence, the one that told him she was really there. He moved slowly, trying not to wake her, wrapping an arm around her torso and pulling her closer. He tucked the blanket a little tighter and glanced toward the corridor. They’d been moved.

Spike frowned and carefully looked around the new room. It looked a lot like their old cells, except it wasn’t empty, he noted with surprise. There was a pile of blankets and neatly folded clothing on top of a thin pad in one corner, and a flat metal showerhead paired with a drain in a second corner. Spike blinked and wondered if this was another experiment, though he couldn’t imagine what for.

Buffy stirred in his arms. When she opened her green eyes he found himself at a loss for words.

“Spike.” Her voice was barely a whisper. 

He’d seen her say it silently so many times it was almost strange to hear it out loud. He gave her a tiny, crooked smile before realizing he was still wearing his vampire face. He shook it off with some effort while she watched, ignoring the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. “Slayer.”

Buffy started to push herself up before wincing and lying down again, cradling her hand protectively. Spike frowned and reached for her hand, gently pulling her fingers open until he could see the red blisters. He furrowed his brow. “What…?”

“Glass,” Buffy said hoarsely. “I thought…I didn’t know you were in here with me.”

Spike took a moment to appreciate that she hadn’t wanted to be separated from him before turning his attention back to her injury. He tugged her upright, cradling her hand in his, palm up, and helped her over to their new water source. Spike quickly dipped a finger in to make sure they hadn’t blessed it before guiding her hand under the stream and wincing with her as she hissed in pain.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” she said just as softly. She pulled her hand back and the sound of the water draining was the loudest thing in the room. Buffy contemplated the showerhead set flush in the ceiling. “Running water,” she said, sounding awed. Spike bit back a smile.

“Fancy a wash, kitten?”

“God, do I ever,” Buffy replied fervently.

“Think they left us new togs, too.” Spike reluctantly released her hand and took a step back, putting distance between them.

“Why?” Buffy looked around the room, puzzled.

Spike lifted his eyebrows. “Your guess is as good as mine, Slayer.” He moved toward the makeshift bed and sorted through the clothing. Buffy trailed after him and accepted the clothes he handed her.

“Is there shampoo?” she asked hopefully.

Spike frowned and then glanced at the corner of the ceiling where the camera had been in his old cell. “Oi! You hear that, wankers?” He checked the other corners, noting that this cell had more than just one camera vent. He narrowed his eyes just as the ceiling hatch opened and a bar of soap came tumbling out. Buffy jerked back, pressing her shoulder against his side. He could feel the ends of her limp hair brushing his arm. 

“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes wide. “Well, that’s handy. Or possibly creepy.”

Spike picked up the bar, cracked now from hitting the floor. “All right?”

Buffy sighed, looking at it. “Better than nothing.” She turned her back to him and lifted her hair up. “Can you…?”

Spike could see the tangled, frayed knot holding her gown on. He could also see that she wasn’t wearing anything under it. His eyes raked down the smooth skin of her back to the swell of her ass and felt his cock stir for the first time in a long while. He took an unnecessary breath. “Course.” He fumbled with the knot for a moment before scowling at it. He could hear her heart rate pick up, her blood practically singing to him. “Hang on.” He brought his fangs to the forefront and nicked the material with one so he could tear it. He concentrated on the faint scent of shampoo lingering in her hair to keep his demon at bay and his ridges receded as Buffy turned to face him again.

“Thanks,” she said. She wasn’t making eye contact, looking nervously around the room as twin red spots bloomed in her pale cheeks. She had her injured hand curled up against her chest again.

Spike gently grasped her wrist. “Need to be careful with that hand, love.” Buffy bit her lower lip and clutched her clothes tightly to her chest, holding her gown up with her uninjured hand.  Spike took her new scrubs back and tossed them on the bed before following her over the shower and standing behind her. She let out a sigh as the water sluiced down her back and turned her face up into the spray.

The vampire watched for a moment, enchanted, before shaking himself. He touched one of her bare shoulders, making her turn her head. “You don’t ha-” she started.

“Let me?”

Buffy hesitated long enough for him to shift nervously. He started to move away just as she nodded, so he stepped closer again, handing her a chunk of the soap and reached for her damp hair. He spent a long time carefully untangling the worst of the snarls from it with his fingers as the water poured down. His scrubs were soaked through but she was still clinging to her gown, trying to keep herself covered, and he didn’t want to spook her.

When he’d gotten the worst of the knots out he took his own sliver of soap and worked it into a lather, using his fingers to comb it into her hair and massage her scalp. He heard her sigh again, contented this time, like the way she used to before they’d gotten stuck in this particular version of hell.

She finally let her gown fall as he concentrated on evenly distributing the soap through her thick locks, getting rid of all traces of blood and gore. He started rinsing carefully, parting the strands with his fingers and gently working the smaller snarls out as soap swirled down the drain. There were no bubbles left at all but Spike couldn’t bring himself to stop touching her. The muscles in her back moved, sleek under her skin, as she bathed herself. She looked back over her shoulder again, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

“Thanks.”

Spike reluctantly pulled his hands away. “Welcome.” He saw her eyes drop to the fabric clinging to his legs. There was no way she missed his obvious arousal, but she didn’t react beyond a slight blush. She lifted her gaze again. “I’ll get us a towel if you want to finish.”

Spike watched admiringly as she squared her shoulders and walked with confidence across the small room. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than her in that moment.

He hastily stripped off his scrubs and gave himself a quick wash-up as she dried herself with one of the blankets and got dressed. He was shaking soap out of his eyes by the time she returned, holding their makeshift towel. Spike stepped away from the showerhead, hearing the water shut off, and accepted the blanket from her. She was still slightly red and kept her eyes fixed on his face. Spike smirked a little but she refused to take the bait, simply handing him a dry pair of scrub bottoms when he was through.

“I know why we’re here,” she said.

Spike paused in the middle of toweling his hair dry and glanced at her, surprised. “Yeah?”

Buffy nodded. “She’s been trying to, um…make a vampire baby. With me. And you.”

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Pretty sure I’d remember that, kitten.”

“Artificially,” Buffy clarified. Now she was really blushing. It was bloody adorable.

Spike tilted his head and considered her. “That’s where they’ve been taking you.” Buffy averted her eyes and nodded as he reached out to touch her arm. “You’re all right?” She nodded again. He kept his hand on her elbow until she was looking at him again. “I’m sorry, Slayer. I should have…”

She lifted a small hand up, silencing him. “It’s not your fault.” She patted his bare chest and he felt a thrill run up his spine. God, when had he become such a complete ponce? “Thank you for trying.”

“So,” Spike said, refocusing on the more pressing issue. They weren’t safe here, but he was essentially defanged and bugger all if he’d managed to come up with another plan to get them out. “What do they want now?”

Buffy blushed harder and snatched her hand back from his chest. “She said something about more observation.”

It took a moment for Spike to suss out what Buffy was saying, but then both of his eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He glanced up at the cameras again. “Likes to watch, does she?”

Buffy looked like she might spontaneously combust, she was so red. “I told her it wouldn’t work, but she doesn’t believe me.”

Spike growled, tamping down his anger at that doctor bitch who’d been messing with his Slayer, and brushed Buffy’s damp hair back away from her face. “You look dead on your feet, pet. Why don’t you catch a bit of kip?”

Buffy looked like she was thinking of protesting, but he caught her look of longing as she considered the pile of blankets in the corner. “Maybe…”

“No maybe,” Spike said firmly. “Need you in top form, yeah?” He ushered her over to the corner and started tossing the blankets into some semblance of a bed. Buffy helped a bit, layering them until she was satisfied before slipping under them and lying back with another contented sigh. He started to move away but she caught his hand before he’d gotten back on his feet.

“Will you stay?”

Spike furrowed his brow. “Uh, can’t really leave, Slayer.” He gestured at their shared cell.

Buffy stared earnestly at him. “No, I meant, stay here.” She patted the blankets next to her. widely

Spike’s mouth worked for a moment. “You sure?” She nodded, her eyes radiating sincerity. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn that kind of trust, but it was making him want to move heaven and earth to get her out of this bloody house of horrors. Especially knowing that doctor bitch was even crazier than he’d imagined.

Buffy scooted over to make room as he cautiously lowered himself and stretched out on top of the blankets. She curled up on her side and slipped one arm over his chest, keeping him close. He let out a long, slow breath as she closed her eyes.

He stayed awake for a long time after she’d fallen asleep, memorizing the way she looked lying there next to him. It was just this place, he told himself. She was hurting and lonely and he was the only thing she knew.  Still, the warmth of her beside him was a balm after the torture of being separated from her, and eventually he slipped into sleep himself.

***

Buffy heard something smack onto the hard floor nearby but Spike didn’t stir so she stayed where she was. She hadn’t been warm like this in what felt like forever. She snuggled down a little further under the blankets, her nose pressed against the vampire’s shoulder. He was sprawled out on their makeshift bed, one of his hands clutching the arm she’d laid across his chest and his leg over her calves. His eyelashes cast long shadows across his cheeks in the harsh lighting.

This entire ordeal was the height of absurdity. She was being kept in a government dungeon with a supposedly evil vampire in order to produce impossible babies for her mad-scientist professor. Why was Professor Walsh so rabid about vampire babies, anyways? Buffy studied Spike’s face as he lay next to her. She might understand if the professor was fanatically dedicated to making sure those cheekbones weren’t lost to the world, but Buffy was fairly certain that wasn’t what her former teacher was after.

Buffy felt her face flush again as she thought about how gentle Spike had been with her earlier, how carefully he’d washed her hair. She definitely hadn’t missed the way his water-logged pants had clung to his strong thighs and strong…other parts. She’d been very tempted to jump him right there but she really didn’t want to give Professor Walsh the satisfaction. Buffy sighed. Of course the one time someone actually encouraged her to get involved with a vampire it would have to be for an evil experiment.

Spike took a breath and let it out slowly in his sleep. They were few and far between, but Buffy liked how human it made him seem. He kept surprising her. She couldn’t think of a single man who would have helped her like he did earlier without things getting extremely awkward. Even Angel…well. Angel himself had told her once that he couldn’t control his demon around her when she was _clothed_. And that was when he’d had a soul.

She shifted her arm a little lower and resettled her cheek against Spike’s shoulder. He made a snuffling noise but didn’t wake. Buffy wondered if Giles and her friends were looking for her or if they’d just assumed she was dead. They would have blamed Spike for her sudden disappearance. Maybe the Council of Watchers was even looking for the next Slayer, although she wasn’t sure another would be called since she’d already died once. She almost smiled thinking of how frustrated that awful Mr. Travers might be, searching in vain for a new Slayer to boss around. 

Buffy wondered if the Council would have tried harder to find out what happened to her if she hadn’t quit, or if they would have just written her off anyways. Had she really, truly quit, though, if she was still out there doing her job the same as always? She’d refused to work for them anymore because they’d set her up, almost killed her mother, and made Giles lie to her. They’d proven they were willing to deceive her and yet she’d accepted everything they’d ever told her about vampires and demons without question, even now. They’d also made it very clear how expendable they thought she was. 

No, there was no chance of a rescue, Buffy knew that. She’d barely mentioned running into that one commando guy during her werewolf hunt to Giles before she and Spike had been taken. For all she knew this stupid lab wasn’t even in California. She and Spike would have to save themselves. A glimmer of an idea sparked in the back of Buffy’s brain.

Spike’s angular hip was awfully pronounced, Buffy noticed, trailing her thumb along the protruding bone. He hadn’t been eating much. She’d seen him pass out when he did drink the blood they dropped into his cell and understood why he’d been avoiding it. She hated how Professor Walsh kept her drugged too. She felt a lot better than she had in a long time though, and hoped her Slayer healing would clear everything out of her system quickly.

When she looked back up, Spike’s eyes were open. The edges of her mouth tilted up in a tiny, involuntary smile. “Hey.”

He searched her face. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, actually.” Buffy kept her voice low. It was strange, knowing they were always being watched. She felt like a contestant in the most horrible version of ‘Big Brother’ ever.

The vampire gave her a slight smile of his own. “Good to hear, kitten.” He closed his eyes again and Buffy looked at the deep shadows under his cheekbones in concern.

“You need to eat,” she said quietly. “I mean, not people…but maybe the blood they give you.”

Spike scowled but didn’t open his eyes. “I’m fine. And I’m a _vampire_. People are on the menu.”

“Spike,” Buffy said determinedly. She had to be firm. She really didn’t want to have to dust him after they got out of this terrible place.

He finally opened his eyes. “What?” He sounded cranky.

Buffy bit her lip. “I know he wasn’t, you know, nice or anything, but Parker-”

“Oh for Christ’s sake, are you still stuck on that git?”

“No!” Buffy said, offended. “I just don’t think he deserved to _die_!”

“Well, he did, for messing with your head that way. The boy was a bloody menace to woman everywhere. World’s better off without him.”

“That’s not the point, Spike.” Buffy tried to keep from smiling at the vampire’s tirade.

“What is? This place not killing me fast enough for you? Looking to lecture me to death?”

“No!” Buffy smacked his bare chest with her healing palm and winced a little.

Spike frowned and caught her hand, cradling it gently. “Careful of that hand, kitten.”

Buffy felt her entire body calm. He was a very strange and confusing vampire. She could feel his thumb sweeping over the pulse point of her wrist. “Just…try not to kill any more people?”

“Why?” Spike was still frowning at her hand.

“Because,” Buffy said in exasperation. “It’s bad.” 

“Taste pretty good,” Spike muttered.

“Spike!”

“Need blood, Slayer, there’s no way around that.”

“It doesn’t have to be _human_ blood.”

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Not like I have a choice in here, anyways. Stuff they’re giving me is barely adequate.”

Buffy gave up trying to reason with him for the moment, since they had more important things to deal with first. He was right, it wasn’t like he could go hunting down here, especially now that he had that chip-thing. She waited until he turned his head to look at her, hoping she could convey her possible-plan with just her eyes. “You need to keep your strength up. For the…special thing.”

He looked at her quizzically but didn’t press the issue. Buffy settled her head back against his shoulder and he started sliding his hands through her drying hair. She didn’t even want to imagine how awful it must look. “I miss conditioner,” she mumbled.

Spike snorted a laugh. “Only you, Slayer.”

“Only me what?” She picked up her head to glare at him.

“We’re stuck in the demon version of the Tower and you’re worried about how your hair looks.”

“You love my hair.”

Spike grinned, looking almost like his old self again. “Noticed that, did you?”

This time Buffy snorted. “It was kinda hard to miss.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how undusty I was after our last fight, Slayer. Think you might like some things about me, too.”

Buffy shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “Maybe.”

Spike rolled so that she was underneath him, their bodies separated only by layers of blankets. He propped himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her face with a look in his eyes that made her breath catch. He leaned down and she tensed in anticipation but he merely placed his mouth a hairsbreadth from her ear. “Just maybe?”

Buffy tried to keep from panting at the feel of him pinning her down under the blankets. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and hoped her voice was steady as she pressed her mouth to his ear. “I have an idea,” she said in the quietest whisper she could manage. Spike’s entire body went still for a split second. She trailed a hand down his bare back, hoping he’d play along.

“Okay.” His answer was more of a rumble she could feel rolling through her, making her shiver. She felt his lips curve up in a smile against the skin of her throat.

Buffy swallowed a whimper and pushed him up, although the feel of his bare chest under her hands almost more distracting than his mouth had been. “Um,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “We have to tell her about us, Spike. It’s the only way.”

Spike cocked his head at her as he blinked once, then twice, as Buffy held her breath. Come on, she thought frantically, come on, please. Finally, the vampire opened his mouth. “Are you sure, Slayer?”

“Everything hurts,” Buffy whispered. This part was easier. Everything did hurt. She ached in strange places and had new scars she wasn’t sure would ever heal properly if she didn’t get away from her crazy ex-professor. “I can’t take much more. Please, she already knows so much about us.”

Spike’s expression was so perfectly concerned that she honestly couldn’t tell if he meant it or not. Before all this had happened she would have dismissed it easily, but now, after everything she’d seen, she wondered if it might actually be real. He nuzzled his nose into her hair, his hands cradling her face. “I’m sorry, love.” His voice was laden with emotions that everyone had told her demons could never feel. A tear involuntarily slipped out of her eye. Spike caught it with his thumb and gently kissed her cheek. “Let’s tell her, then.”

“Subject A,” a crisp voice came flooding into the room and Buffy felt a surge of triumph as Spike smirked down at her, his eyes dancing.

“What the hell is with all the interruptions?” Spike growled, his demon ridges coming out as he sat up. Buffy huddled behind him, catching sight of Professor Walsh’s face as the woman stood in front of their window. The professor was practically salivating in anticipation of whatever secret she thought they’d been keeping from her.

“The blood is untainted,” Professor Walsh said, nodding at the packet in the middle of the floor next to one of Buffy’s food containers. “Nothing’s been added.”

Spike glared at her before getting up and helping Buffy to her feet. He padded over to the blood bag as Buffy hesitantly approached the glass separating her from the professor. “I really shouldn’t…” Buffy looked over her shoulder at the vampire as he bit into the bag and took an experimental pull. When he remained upright they both relaxed a bit. “It’s something passed down along the Slayer line.”

Professor Walsh was listening eagerly now. Buffy glanced at the man wearing a lab coat who was hovering at the professor’s shoulder. “Can we talk alone?”

Professor Walsh didn’t even spare her peon a glance, waving him away. “Continue, Sub- I mean, Buffy.”

Buffy took a breath as Spike moved to stand just behind her, resting a hand on her lower back. “You don’t have to do this, Slayer,” he whispered loud enough for the professor to catch. Professor Walsh glared at him.

“Yes,” Buffy turned to grasp his hand, threading their fingers together and hoping they weren’t overselling this. “I do.”

Spike simply nodded, pulling her down to sit with him on the floor. Buffy gratefully noticed the food box he was holding as he settled her onto his lap and made a great show of being an overprotective vampire boyfriend. Perfect. The professor stared down at them for a minute before holding up her hand. “Wait, please, I’ll be back in a moment.”

Buffy nodded seriously and opened her mouth as Spike lifted something vaguely jerky-like to her lips. Her healing body was ravenous and she could barely keep from sucking his fingers into her mouth to make sure she’d gotten it all.

Professor Walsh came striding back into view with a soldier carrying a chair immediately behind her. The soldier set the chair down and turned to the professor. It was Riley, Buffy noticed. She hadn’t seen him in a long time. He didn’t even glance her way. She wondered if she might have been sad about that, once. Spike growled low in her ear and Buffy lifted a hand to his cheek, only dropping it when Riley was out of sight again. She was starting to lose track of what was for show and what wasn’t.

Professor Walsh sat stiffly in the chair, her clipboard on her knees. “Please, continue.”

Buffy hadn’t heard the professor be this polite since…well, ever. Even in front of her psych class the woman had been all tyrant-y. “There’s a kind of test,” Buffy said, trying to keep things as simple as possible. “When Slayers turn eighteen.” She felt Spike shift beneath her and knew he thought she was going to talk about the cruciamentum. She squeezed his knee to keep him quiet. “If she passes, it’s proof that she’s ready for the next step.”

“What does the test consist of?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Buffy whispered, ducking her head. She saw a flash of annoyance cross the professor’s face. “But I can tell you what happens afterwards.” Professor Walsh seemed placated.

Buffy took a deep breath. “There’s an artifact passed down from Slayer to Slayer after she comes of age and begins to seek her…equal.” Buffy hedged, hoping the professor wouldn’t make her come up with any crazy names for stuff. Thank god Giles had inadvertently taught her how to sound like a boring old book.

“Her equal being a vampire?” the professor asked eagerly. Buffy nodded. She turned her head to accept another bit of food from Spike and saw him watching her curiously. “I knew it,” Professor Walsh made a notation on her clipboard. “One girl, alone. How ridiculous.”

Spike rested his head against Buffy’s back between her shoulder blades and stifled something that might have been a laugh. Buffy pinched his thigh and he jerked, feeding her another bit of food so he could glare at her while she smiled beatifically.

“Right,” Buffy agreed. “So if she finds this, uh, equal, and chooses to…stay with him, there are the obvious issues of, you know, immortality and kids and stuff.”

This time Spike snorted out loud. “Kids and stuff. So eloquent, my Slayer.” Buffy slanted a look at him but he just grinned back.

“And you’ve chosen Hostile 17 as your equal?” Professor Walsh asked, looking up from her frantic scribbling.

Buffy nodded. “Yep. So, once we make with the big commitment there’s something we can give our partners to make them a little more…human. If they want.” She patted Spike’s knee. “Not that there’s anything wrong with them just the way they are, of course.”

Spike was looking at her in mild amusement. “Right,” he agreed. “But you know I’ll do anything for you, kitten.”

Buffy gave him a genuine smile. “I know.” He winked at her.

The professor had a white-knuckled grip around the pen in her hand. “What is it?”

“You’ve seen it,” Buffy said solemnly. “We had to hide it in plain sight so no one would ever suspect.”

Professor Walsh looked confused. “I’ve seen it?”

Buffy nodded. “Riley found us the night I was going to give it to Spike.”

“I knew his report was accurate,” the professor said smugly. “Riley is one of my best.”

Buffy refrained from rolling her eyes. “Yes, well, he interrupted us just before the end of the ritual.”

“There’s a ritual and an artifact?” Professor Walsh checked her notes again. “That’s quite an archaic bit of lore. But what do you give the vampires?”

“It’s a…” Buffy leaned forward slightly, checking down the corridor and watching out of the corner of her eye as Professor Walsh leaned forward too. Buffy bit back a satisfied smile. “…a ring.” She felt Spike go completely still beneath her.

The professor looked confused. “The ring in your effects? What does it do?”

Buffy shrugged. “Makes them more human somehow. I don’t know how it works. Some Slayer and her vampire came up with it eons ago with the help of some witches.”

“Witches?” Professor Walsh sounded doubtful.

Buffy looked at her strangely. “Yeah.”

“Oh, come on,” Spike said suddenly. “You operate on demon brains but you don’t know about witches? What kind of shoddy operation is this?” He turned to Buffy. “This is shameful. Forget it, we shouldn’t have told them about this, pet.”

“Spike,” Buffy said reproachfully, but the diatribe seemed to have worked.

“If you had this…magic ring,” Professor Walsh said it like the words left a bad taste in her mouth. “You could breed?”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Sure, except we don’t make it sound quite so…farm-y.”

“Because ‘kids and stuff’ is so highbrow,” Spike muttered under his breath. Buffy elbowed him in the ribs.

Professor Walsh regarded them thoughtfully as she stood up. “We’ll have to do some tests on it first, of course, to determine the authenticity of your story.”

Buffy shrugged. “It won’t work without the ritual.”

The professor narrowed her eyes at Buffy. “Be that as it may, we must be cautious. I’ll let you know.” Buffy watched Professor Walsh scuttle away.

“Well, that was interesting.” Spike’s voice rumbled in her ear.

Buffy sighed and couldn’t figure out how to reply without giving them both away. God, she hoped this crazy scheme worked. She leaned back against Spike as the vampire absently stroked the palm of her hand that had finally started to heal.


	11. I Don't Know

“They’re not giving you enough blood,” Buffy said worriedly. She wasn’t sure how long it had been since they’d spun their tale for the professor. She guessed a couple of days from the amount of food containers that had dropped out of the ceiling. She’d spent most of that time sleeping with Spike curled around her like an undead watchdog. She was starting to feel like herself again, though her full strength still eluded her.

Spike leaned his head back against the wall, poking at the remains of her latest meal like he hoped to find something vampire-friendly in it. “It won’t matter, Slayer.” He sighed, setting the container aside and pulling her back against him. He wrapped his arms around her middle as they both watched the empty hall. Buffy was getting impatient but she knew there was nothing she could do but wait. She hated waiting. Spike hooked his chin over her shoulder, his unruly hair tickling her ear.

Buffy absently reached up to stroke his cheek. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She chewed on her lower lip for a minute as Spike kissed the juncture of her neck and shoulder, sending an electric tingle down her spine. Once, she might have questioned her own sanity at their scheme to get the Gem back on Spike’s finger, but now it seemed absurd not to trust him with it. They needed it if they were going to get out of this place. Once they were out she would have to make other, more complicated decisions regarding the vampire, but in here things were simple. She had him, and he had her, and they would either escape or go down together.

“Someone’s coming,” Spike murmured into her ear. Buffy stiffened against him for a moment before forcing herself to relax. He slipped his hands up under the loose shirt she was wearing and slowly moved them up higher, making her heart skip a beat as his long fingers stroked her skin. Sometimes Buffy wondered if they weren’t forgetting her story was just that: a story.

“Subject A, Hostile 17.”

“Professor,” Buffy replied. Spike removed his hands from under her shirt and let them dangle over his bent knees. Buffy straightened up and tried to look meek.

“What do you require for the ritual?”

Buffy blinked for a moment as she went back over what she’d told the professor. “Oh, um.” She made a show of trying to remember. “A-a feather—a crow’s feather—and, uh…holy water. And some lavender.”

Professor Walsh looked at her skeptically. “Is that all?”

Buffy shrugged. “Most of the magic is in the ring already.”

“And my coat,” Spike piped up suddenly. Buffy glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows lifting.

“Sorry?” Professor Walsh looked confused.

“And a bed,” Spike continued confidently. “Not going to ritually get down with my girl on some pile of blankets. She deserves a nice bed. With soft sheets.”

Buffy dropped her head onto one hand, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Spike!”

“And keep the audience to a minimum,” he continued, really warming to his theme. “I’m sick of you wankers trying to get a free peep show.” Buffy elbowed him again. “Ow! Okay, fine, just the coat.”

“Coat?” Professor Walsh looked confused.

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “Bloody well better not have lost it. Need that coat. Slayer here likes it when I play the Big Bad.” Buffy glared at him. He smirked. “Don’t you, sweetness?”

Buffy refrained from popping him in the nose even though he clearly deserved it. They were trying to escape from an evil, government-run demon lab and he was worried about his stupid coat? She took a deep, calming breath. “That’s true.” She gave Professor Walsh an embarrassed smile. “Plus, you know, he has trouble, um, _performing_ without it.”

“Oi! That’s not-”

“Spike,” Buffy kept her smile firmly in place and narrowed her eyes at him. “Let’s not keep the professor. How long until everything’s ready?”

Professor Walsh looked between the two of them, her brow furrowed. “Not long, I’m sure. We’ll…do our best with your, ah, other requests.”

“Thank you.” Buffy nodded as regally as she could manage and watched until the professor was out of her line of sight before elbowing Spike again.

“Ow!” the vampire complained, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her own against her sides. “Temper, Slayer.”

“A bed with soft sheets?” Buffy hissed at him, squirming in his grasp. “Seriously? Your coat?”

“Bloody fond of that coat,” Spike grumbled. “And there’s nothing wrong with wanting a little comfort, kitten.”

Buffy sighed and slumped against him. “You’re impossible.”

Spike laughed softly in her ear before gently biting her collarbone with blunt teeth. Buffy leaned her head back against his shoulder as his grip loosened, letting out a tiny sigh. “Nothing’s impossible, Slayer.”

Buffy turned her face into his neck so she couldn’t see him just then. “Some things are,” she said softly.

Spike shifted her so that she settled more fully against his chest and gripped a handful of her hair, tugging her head back until she was forced to meet his gaze. His eyes were still a paler blue than she was used to, washed out by the bright lighting. His face was thinner than normal, too, throwing his cheekbones into high relief. Buffy didn’t even realize she’d reached up to trace one with a fingertip until she was already doing it. “Don’t say that,” he said, his voice low.

Her hand stilled on his face and she cupped his cheek as he bent to rest his forehead against hers. “Sorry,” she whispered, not entirely sure why she was apologizing. The touch of his lips made her forget everything else, and when she gave in to his questing tongue he tasted her like a man starved. His grip in her hair was just shy of painful. Buffy clutched his bare shoulder as he guided her down onto the blankets and covered her body with his own.

“Spike,” she gasped, her eyes closed and her head tipped back toward the ceiling as he kissed a path down her throat. He kept one hand in her hair while the other slid under her shirt, caressing her overheated skin with cool fingers. She felt him gently brush the undersides of her breasts and her breath hitched.

Spike lifted his head to look at her, the blue in his eyes almost swallowed by black. “My beautiful Slayer,” he whispered to her. Buffy stared at him, reaching down to cup his face in her hands and drawing him up so she could kiss him again. She loved that he kissed like he fought: fiercely, with nothing held back. She wrapped a leg around his hip and felt his arousal come to rest in the perfect spot between her legs, making them both groan. Spike began to move his hips, grinding down against her and causing sparks to shoot up her spine. Buffy gasped as he cupped one of her breasts, his long fingers circling her pebbled nipple just as a voice intruded.

“Hostile 17, Subject A. Separate now.”

Spike growled and pressed his face into Buffy’s shoulder before pulling back. “Would you make up your bloody minds!”

Buffy bit back a nervous giggle, trying to catch her breath. At least the professor wouldn’t have any reason to doubt they were interested in...breeding or whatever she thought they were about to do. Buffy almost wished they had a little more time. She turned her head and caught sight of several soldiers watching them through the electrified glass. She squeaked and tugged her shirt back down, shoving Spike off of her.

The vampire rolled to the side and glared at the ceiling, crossing his arms. “Gits.”

Buffy’s hands automatically went up to her hair before she remembered there was no way to make it look less ratty. She sighed and let her arms drop, clambering to her feet and facing the glass. “What?”

The three soldiers in front were Riley and two guys she’d seen him hang out with on campus before. Huh, that’s why they’d looked so familiar. And Professor Walsh was a teacher at the college. Maybe Buffy was closer to home than she’d thought.

“Come to the door, Subject A,” Riley instructed, his face expressionless and his voice stern. “Just you.”

Buffy glanced down at Spike, who was watching Riley suspiciously. Spike’s fangs came out as he changed into his demon face and got to his feet. Even barefoot and bare-chested the vampire was able to pull off a superior air. “Not real interested in letting her go anywhere with you, Cub Scout.”

Riley scowled momentarily before schooling his features. “Orders are to take you both to another containment area so you can…complete your ritual.” He sounded dubious.

Buffy took a step closer to the glass. “Slayer,” she heard Spike growl softly behind her. 

“It’s okay,” she said softly, keeping her eyes on the soldiers. “I’ll see you there, Spike.”

When the glass door slid open half the soldiers trained their taser-guns on her and the other half covered Spike. The vampire stood perfectly still, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at Riley. “Hurt her and die.”

Riley stepped towards Buffy and she had to force herself not to move back out of his reach. She saw a gurney just behind the solders and two people in lab coats stepped forward, indicating the table. She climbed onto it obediently and let them strap her down. She craned her neck and saw Spike still watching her, his entire body trembling slightly. “I’ll see you soon,” she said encouragingly. They were so close now. She saw Spike take a breath and shake off his demon features.

“Yeah, Slayer.” Spike said, glaring at the tense soldiers. “See you soon.”

***

His Slayer had stones, Spike would give her that. That woman Buffy called professor had swallowed the absurd tale Buffy had spun without question. Now he just had to pray the idiots hadn’t destroyed the Gem during their little tests. Was smart of the Slayer to include holy water in the ritual ingredients, meant he could be sure the Gem was working before he really went to town on these tossers.

After the white-coats had wheeled his Slayer away with an armed escort, it was his turn. Spike hoped to hell they weren’t separating him from Buffy again. There was no way he could stay sane for long in this rat maze now that he knew what they’d been doing to her.

Spike kept his eye on the soldier boy as Buffy was wheeled away, the glint in the human’s eyes making the vampire’s hackles rise. “Just get it over with, you bloody prat.”

Riley smirked, turning his attention to the vampire. “With pleasure.”

Spike watched three soldiers raise their shock-guns and almost sighed in irritation as they shot him. As he fell to the ground in a heap he decided to be grateful that they hadn’t drugged him. This had a much quicker recovery time.

He started to come to as they strapped him to a gurney and began wheeling him at a leisurely pace down the first of several halls. He suspected they were deliberately keeping him from Buffy for as long as they could without pissing off the bitch in charge.

“Magic fucking ring,” one of the soldiers next to Riley muttered. “This wasn’t what I signed on for.”

“Can it, Gates,” Riley said. “The professor said the equipment was definitely picking something up from the ring. She’s going to try and code it into our sensors, see if we might have been overlooking a whole class of HST’s. Maggie wants to see what these two are going to do, that’s all.”

“Could have just watched the preview we were getting a minute ago,” the soldier replied snidely. “Man, that is one freaky chick. The world might be better off without her at all, you know?”

Spike almost growled but restrained himself. He just wanted to get to Buffy and the Gem. These idiots could say whatever they wanted. He was going to kill them all sooner or later.

Several of the soldier’s radios started squawking at once and Riley let out an irritated huff. “Let’s get 17 to containment.”

“No one’s forcing her, Ri,” one of the other soldiers said calmly. “She’s the one who came up with this crock of shit.”

Riley scowled. “Gee, thanks, Miller, that makes me feel much better about some demon violating the girl I had a crush on.”

Spike wanted to get up off the table and squeeze the life out of this boy who could never hope to be good enough to touch his Slayer. Her pinky toe was worth more than the lot of them put together. He was going to get her away from here and then he was going to rain destruction down upon their heads.

“Move on, man,” the one called Gates said. “I know Slayers are supposed to be on our side or whatever, but this one sure as hell isn’t”

Riley sighed and Spike heard a series of beeps as they opened a door and wheeled him into a small room. “Get him up.”

Spike felt them undoing the straps holding him down before dropping him on the floor. He waited until he was sure they were gone before testing his legs. His body seemed to be in working order, though he thought the soldiers might have been using a bit more juice than they had before. No doubt a little present from the wanna-be lover boy. Spike moved to peer through the window of the second door before opening it but the only thing he saw on the other side was a lone figure with golden hair. He smiled and opened the door.

***

Buffy waited worriedly. She’d thought Spike would be here by now. What if this was all a plan to separate them again? She glanced at the items she’d found on her arrival, then looked up. There were several people wearing white coats on the second level, and hardly anyone in fatigues, so she didn’t think this was another demon fighting test. She clutched the plastic container of holy water just in case and watched the doors, sitting cross-legged on a thin mattress covered with a threadbare sheet.

One of the doors was finally flung open, making her start with surprise as Spike sauntered in. “Well,” he said, eyeing the mattress under her. “Not exactly the Four Seasons, but better than nothing.”

Buffy smiled a little and pulled something out from behind her back, watching the vampire’s entire face light up in delight. “They left this, too.”

Spike crossed the room in a blink and took the battered leather coat from her, shaking it out and staring at it with shining eyes. “Oh, look at you,” he nearly crooned. “Daddy’s home.” He slung it over his shoulders as Buffy covered her mouth with one hand to stifle her laughter. He glanced at her. “Oh, right, good to see you too, Slayer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Very convincing. Would you two like to be left alone?”

Spike arched one eyebrow at her and grinned unrepentantly, kneeling to join her on the mattress. “Jealous, kitten?” Spike leaned forward, putting his hands on her thighs and slowly sliding them up towards her hips.

Buffy slapped his hands away. “Ritual first,” she said primly. She couldn’t let him distract her when they were so close to their goal. Spike sighed in disappointment and pulled the coat tight around him, rolling onto his back to sprawl across their makeshift bed.

“I’m all yours, Slayer.” He stared up at the people peering through the windows. “Rather more of them than last time, aren’t there?”

“I think we’re tonight’s entertainment.” Buffy had lined up all the items on the floor next to her and was considering the little satchel of lavender, rolling it between her fingers before setting it aside.

Spike linked his fingers behind his head, watching her curiously. Buffy knew what he was looking for. She held up the Gem, pretending to study it before setting it down gently and picking up the black feather. Buffy tried to figure out how she was going to use all these things. They needed to be sure the Gem still worked, and she needed to make their fake ritual looked authentic to the voyeurs upstairs so she and Spike could take them by surprise.

Spike watched the Gem avidly as she set it aside before refocusing on her face. “Ready when you are, Slayer. Shall we get started?”

Buffy bit her lip and considered him. His chest was still bare under the coat. She shrugged and opened the holy water. “I guess we’d better.” She dumped some of the lavender in it and Spike wrinkled his nose.

“Fantastic, I’m going to smell like an old woman.”

“Hush,” Buffy carefully stirred the mixture with the feather before moving up to straddle the vampire’s hips. She pushed open his coat, revealing his bare chest.

Spike eyed the holy water with trepidation. “Uh, pet…”

Buffy lifted her eyebrows and he shut his mouth, watching her with hooded eyes. “Just a cleansing,” she said, for the benefit of their audience. She leaned in a little closer, her tone sympathetic. “Sorry.” She dragged the holy-water covered feather down the center of his chest, wincing with him as a red line appeared behind it.

“Think I’m bloody cleansed, Slayer,” Spike said between clenched teeth as she reached his belly button. She felt him shift his hips under her.

Buffy cleared her throat and stuck the feather back in the container of holy water. “Um, yep, all clean.”

She reached over and plucked the Gem off the mattress. Spike’s body was tense under her. “Relax,” she whispered, holding out one hand and waiting. Spike’s chest rose and fell, the red line bright down the center of it drawing her attention. Slowly, he lifted his head enough to pull out one hand, moving to rest it on top of hers. Buffy smiled reassuringly at him. God, she hoped this worked. She glanced up at the faces watching them.

“Like it on top, kitten?” Spike was watching her carefully.

Buffy almost glared before realizing what he was actually asking her. She fought to keep from glancing up again. “Thought it might be a good place to start,” she replied. She slid the ring on Spike’s finger and held her breath as the red line on the vampire’s chest began to fade.

Spike’s eyes widened and he gave her another grin, drawing her attention up from his abdomen. “Little more cleansing, Slayer?”

Buffy inhaled and blushed slightly. “Um, yeah,” she said more breathlessly than she’d intended. She released Spike’s hand and he tucked it back under his head, staring up at her with an impish expression. Buffy picked up the container of holy water again and pulled out the feather, absently biting her lip as she carefully shook the excess water off of it. The lavender was making everything smell nice, like one of her mom’s favorite bubble baths. 

Spike’s gaze followed her every move as she leaned forward, her hair slipping over her shoulder. She shifted a little in his lap. She could feel his arousal starting to press against her backside. This was just for testing the Gem, not anything else, she told herself sternly. Buffy started up near his collarbone this time, dragging the feather down to his waistband and up to his other collarbone in a slow, steady ‘V’ shape. Nothing happened, other than her own heart rate kicking up a little.

“Have to remember to find some feathers for later,” Spike murmured, shifting under her.

“Uh-huh,” Buffy said absently, dragging the feather from the point of one of his nipples across to the other one. Spike’s hand clasped gently around her wrist and stopped her movement. She looked up at him guiltily. His eyes were soft but his smile was just shy of a leer.

“All finished now, Slayer?”

Buffy mentally shook herself and smiled back. She settled more fully into his lap and wiggled. “Are you?” she retaliated.

“Will be if you’d stop doing that.”

“Sorry,” Buffy’s tone was anything but apologetic.

“Now what?” He glanced up again but Buffy made sure to keep her eyes steady on him.

“Now we fight.”

“What?” Spike lifted his head up and looked at her, clearly surprised.

Buffy leaned forward, her hands on his chest. “Scared, vampire?”

Spike tilted his head to the side as he considered her. “Oh, you know I love a good brawl, Slayer.”

“I do,” Buffy grinned, unable to help herself. “Going to show me a good time?”

“You’re the perfect woman,” Spike said, looking completely serious.

Buffy shrugged nonchalantly. “I know.” The vampire threw his head back against the mattress and laughed as she climbed off of him and held out a hand. Spike took it and let her haul him to his feet. “Ready?” Buffy settled into a defensive stance as Spike smoothed down the lapels of his coat. She stopped, exasperated, and put her hands on her hips. “Spike?”

“Hm?” He looked up. “Oh, right.” He made one last pass down the front of his jacket, gave a satisfied nod, and smiled at Buffy in anticipation. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“As if you could,” Buffy sniffed.

Spike grinned like a child on Christmas morning. “First time for everything.” Buffy almost missed the signs, barely ducking in time to avoid his first swing. She heard him laughing as she spun around and tried to punch the air where he’d just been. “Come on, Slayer, show me what you’ve got.”

Buffy did her favorite spin kick, delighted at having room to move as Spike easily avoided her. “I’m ready,” she said, feeling her adrenaline start flowing.

Spike nodded. “Do it again.”

Buffy launched herself at him, pirouetting in the air and feeling him catch her foot to send her even higher. The frames around the windows on the second level were just wide enough for her to cling to with her fingers and toes. A man wearing a white coat on the other side gaped in astonishment just as Spike joined her and their combined elbow strikes cracked the thick glass. A second strike had it shattering as Spike scooped her up and gracefully leapt clear of the shards.

“Watch your feet, pet.”

Buffy was grinning at Maggie Walsh as Spike set her down again. “Hello, Professor.”

Professor Walsh’s face was a mixture of confusion and surprise as her clipboard tumbled to the floor. “How…what…?” Professor Walsh managed just before Buffy punched her square in the face and the professor collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Blood gushed from her now-crooked nose.

“Experiment’s over, bitch,” Buffy said in satisfaction.

Spike changed to his demon face and lunged at the woman, his fangs gleaming. Buffy grabbed his arm and strained to pull him back. “No killing, please, Spike,” she pled. These were still humans, despite their lack of compassion, and she couldn’t let him slaughter them indiscriminately

Spike stopped and glanced at her, his yellow eyes narrowing before he punched a trembling man who’d been trying to stick a syringe in his back. He smiled as Buffy anxiously searched his face. “Just a bit of a tickle, Slayer. There’re more heading this way.” Buffy’s shoulders sagged in relief as he turned his attention to the others in the room. The Gem was working and he was willing to listen to her. She was no better than the professor if she allowed herself to be judge, jury and executioner for these people.

Spike knocked out three more white-coats, sending the rest fleeing in terror. The screams were starting to draw attention. “Time to go!” Spike was heading toward the doors, electronic card in hand. He swiped it and yanked the door open, revealing the corridor. Buffy’s heart nearly stopped. At least a dozen soldiers were waiting for them, taser-guns primed and pointed in their direction. “Get behind me,” Spike growled.

“No way.” Buffy grabbed his arm and used his body as leverage to launch herself off the wall and take down three soldiers toward the back of the group as Spike roared in anger and shook off several combined taser blasts. Buffy’s heart was pounding in her ears as she surprised another soldier coming around the corner and Spike bashed together the heads of two men in fatigues. “Spike!”

The vampire caught up to her easily as they ran down another hall. An ear-piercing siren started wailing. “Think we might want to find an escape route soon, Slayer.”

“Working on it,” Buffy promised. There was another group of soldiers heading their way, but she’d worry about that in a second. “There!” She pointed up at the vent over her head.

“Good,” Spike nodded in approval just as the soldiers spotted them.

“Riley,” Buffy whispered, stunned by livid expression the student-come-soldier was wearing as Spike leapt up and knocked the vent loose.

“Up we get, kitten,” Spike gripped her hips and started lifting her just as something pricked her arm.

“Ow,” Buffy jerked her arm back, almost making them topple over. “Sorry, I-I…” she trailed off, the edges of her vision getting blurry. “Spike?” She pulled a needle attached to a small canister out of her arm.

“Buffy?” Spike had his worried expression on again. “Hang on, love. I’ve got you.” She felt him pick her up, the leather of his coat smooth against her cheek. “I’ve got you,” he said again, his voice starting to get further away. She heard a distant roar as he managed to get them both up into the ceiling, and then she was floating away.


	12. Road the Nowhere

Buffy could only remember little pieces of their escape glimpsed between bouts of unconsciousness. Spike had half-dragged, half-carried her out of the apparently underground lab through the huge air vents in the ceiling, reminding her of the first time they’d ever fought when she was in high school. The irony hadn’t been lost on her, but she wasn’t sure Spike had appreciated her semi-hysterical giggling as he’d pulled her through the airshafts while troops of soldiers thundered by below them. She’d passed out for a bit after that.

When she came to again the vampire was trudging down the middle of a familiar street, carrying her like an old-fashioned bride. She spent a moment indulging in the sweet fantasy of the two of them riding off in the sunset together even though she knew it was insanity. Buffy finally sighed and made him set on her own two feet before they got to Giles’ door. There was no way her Watcher wouldn’t stake first, ask questions later if Spike showed up with an unconscious Slayer in his arms.

Apparently, though, even standing on her own two feet and holding the cross her suspicious Watcher had tossed her still wasn’t enough to ensure Giles’ cooperation.

“What?” Giles was standing in his doorway, seemingly nonplussed by her request. Buffy could barely keep her head from wobbling, feeling like she was trying to balance the weight of an elephant on her neck, or possibly two. She wasn’t going to be able to stand much longer. Spike’s arm was solid and strong around her waist.

“He’s on our side, Giles. I swear.”

“This is insanity, Buffy! Really, where-”

“Please, Giles, invite him in,” Buffy pleaded.

“No! What in god’s name is he doing here? Spike, if you’ve done something-”

“Giles,” Buffy said desperately. “He hasn’t done anything. It wasn’t him, it was…Look, I can explain, but you either invite Spike in or we’re leaving.”

Giles’ mouth worked without sound for a long moment before he finally spoke again. “Come in, Spike.” Buffy didn’t miss the way her Watcher spat the vampire’s name. She hoped he would listen to her before trying to toss Spike back out.

Buffy moved slowly into the living room and felt her legs wobble dangerously as she dropped the cross on the nearest table. Spike sighed beside her and swung her up into his arms. She was kind of starting to enjoy it.  “Damn it, Slayer,” he grumbled. “You’re going to break that sweet little ass if you don’t park it somewhere.” Buffy smiled against his shoulder.

Spike carefully set her down on Giles’ couch before collapsing in a nearby chair and rubbing his temples with both hands. “Okay?” she asked softly.

The vampire eyed her for a moment. “Better than you,” he finally said. “Looks like you dug yourself out of an early grave.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks.” She wondered if he was feeling an echo of the effects of the chip or if he was just remembering it was there. He hadn’t done more than knock the solders around during their escape, despite the abilities the Gem gave him. She hoped that might have been a concession he’d made just for her. She wasn’t ready to give him up yet. “How’s your head?”

Spike glanced warily at her Watcher. “Not nearly as bad as it could be,” he answered carefully. “Still feel it a bit though, before the Gem kicks in.” Buffy nodded sympathetically.

Giles cleared his throat and she watched with affection as her Watcher cleaned his glasses before putting them back on. She’d missed him. “Buffy,” Giles said his voice thick with emotion, “For god’s sake, you’ve been gone for weeks. We thought…” He glanced at Spike. “Where have you been?”

Buffy sighed. She was so tired. And longing for a real shower. But Giles had to know, so she told him everything. Minus all the kissing, obviously, there was no reason for him to know about _that_.

Giles sat and listened, stunned for most of it. He didn’t ask nearly as many questions as she expected him to. She wasn’t sure if it was the late hour, or if she’d finally managed to shock him into silence. He didn’t stop sneaking glances at the vampire, but Giles’ expression slowly changed from anger to mistrust to disbelief as her story progressed. “I don’t understand, she wanted what?” stun

Buffy sighed. “Hybrid babies or something,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Why?” Giles asked, bewildered. Buffy shrugged helplessly.

When she finally finished, her Watcher sat quietly for a very long time before getting up and going into the kitchen. Giles returned holding three glasses and a bottle of amber liquid. He poured a splash in one, and a more generous amount in the others. He handed the first glass to Buffy and one of the others to Spike.

Buffy eyed her drink in surprise before sniffing it and making a face. Ew, it smelled like old shoes. She took a cautious sip and felt it burn all the way down her throat. Spike was watching her, one corner of his mouth lifted in a way that made her want to slide into his lap and kiss him thoroughly.

“Watcher.” Spike tipped his glass at Giles before taking a drink.

“Vampire,” Giles returned, lifting his glass in return. Buffy watched them curiously, finishing her drink in one gulp and trying not to gag. She felt warmth spreading through her limbs. Oh, that was nice. She snuggled back into the couch cushions.

“Seen something like that before, Watcher,” Spike ventured. Buffy’s eyes fell closed as she let the low, soothing timbre of the vampire’s voice wash over her. “Back during the second Great War. Those Germans were ingenious bastards, captured quite a lot of strange beasties for their experiments.”

“What kind of experiments?” Giles sounded intrigued and Buffy smiled tiredly.

Spike made a noise that meant he was deciding how much he wanted to share. Buffy wondered when she’d come to know him so well. “Not sure, exactly. Heard they were looking to make their human army bigger and badder. The Americans shut it down before it got much past the planning stages.” There was the soft sound of liquid swishing in a glass. Buffy was drifting towards sleep. “Think that lady doc might share some similar interests with the old bastards from back then. She had that same insane glint in her eye.”

“This is Buffy’s professor?”

“Yeah,” Spike said softly. “And she seemed awfully interested in how strong both me and the Slayer were. Tested the Slayer to the brink of exhaustion, Watcher. And that was before the baby fixation.”

“Yes, Buffy definitely needs some rest, I can see that.” Buffy heard Giles clear his throat. “Thank you,” he said stiffly, like he couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. “For…helping her.”

“She doesn’t belong in that place.” Spike growled. 

“Well, I won’t disagree, but what will happen now? You have the Gem, I see and-”

“Not going to hurt her.” Spike sounded insulted. “Just saved her, didn’t I?”

“So you’ll leave?”

There was a long silence. Buffy heard the quiet noises of the two men shifting in their seats while finishing their drinks. She held her breath, waiting for the vampire’s answer. She wasn’t sure what she was even hoping for. If he said he’d stay she’d probably have to kill him, and if he said he’d go she wouldn’t ever see him again. Both scenarios made her heart hurt. She didn’t want him for an enemy anymore, not after what they’d been through, but what else could he be? He was still a vampire, even if he was different than every vampire she’d even met.

“Depends on the Slayer,” Spike finally said softly. “I’ll have a chat with her when she’s feeling better.”

“She needs to rest,” Giles said firmly.

“I’m fine,” Buffy mumbled into the cushions, annoyed they were talking about her like she wasn’t there. She managed to get her eyes back open with some effort.

“You can’t go back to your dorm, Buffy.” Giles said gently. “Do you want to stay here?”

“I want to go home. Is Mom okay? What did you tell her?”

Giles cleared his throat. “I told her…I said we were looking for you, Buffy, but that there wasn’t much hope. She left to stay with family for a while.”

“Oh,” Buffy said softly, her whole being aching. Her poor mom.

“I’ll ring her in the morning.”

“No, don’t, Giles. It’s not safe for her to come back. What about the whole…Initiative or whatever?”  

“We need to call her, Buffy, she thinks she’s lost you,” Giles said. Something bloomed behind his eyes and Buffy wanted to ask for a moment if he’d gotten into the band candy again. “But you’re right. We have to stop this madness.”

“What?” Buffy struggled to sit up. Maybe she hadn’t explained the whole horrifying torture under the watchful eyes of government-funded goons well enough. He would get hurt. “Giles…”

“We’ll find a way to stop them,” he said with finality. “I’m so sorry, Buffy. I had no idea. We all thought…well, we didn’t know they existed. I have a few friends I need to speak to.”

Buffy just stared at him before slumping back against the cushions. “Okay,” she said in a tiny voice. She was too tired and sore to argue anymore. Giles was smart, he probably already had a plan or something. They could talk about it later. She closed her eyes again.

“Slayer’s house is safe?” She heard Spike ask abruptly.

Giles sounded surprised at the question. “Yes, of course, or I wouldn’t send her there. After Buffy…after she disappeared we put a kind of protection spell on the house for Joyce. She was getting some strange visitors, we thought from the Council at the time, but perhaps it was actually The Initiative. Regardless, the house will be overlooked by anyone with intent to harm its occupants.”

Buffy smiled to herself. Even when she’d been possibly dead Giles had been looking out for her. He was right. She’d call her mom in the morning.

Distant voices filtered through her consciousness. Buffy felt strong arms lift her off the couch and decided that she was going to make Spike carry her everywhere from now on. She burrowed further into his coat, inhaling the scent of cigarettes and leather.

She was home suddenly, barely remembering how she got there. Spike was setting her down on a familiar porch. “Home sweet home,” he said, giving her a little half smile. She stared at him for a long moment before remembering she looked like ten kinds of hell. She blushed and looked away.

Spike had been watching her face just as carefully. He took a step back. “I’ll get going,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “No.” Buffy reached for him, feeling her heart start to race. She didn’t want him out there alone, not with those commandos most likely hunting for them both. She remembered the fanatic gleam in Riley’s eyes just before they’d made their escape.

“Slayer?” Spike asked. She realized she was clutching his hand tightly and staring at the front door behind him, zoning out.

She shook her head to clear it. “Just, stay here,” she said, not sure what she meant, exactly, only that she didn’t want him to go away. “Please.” She wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up in front of her house with the vampire sans her Watcher, but the car ride had been a blur and she guessed Giles didn’t know about Spike’s still-open invitation to her home. She did remember cutting off Giles’ objections to Spike’s continued presence by slamming the passenger door shut with enough force to violently rattle the entire car. 

Spike tilted his head and considered her for a long moment. She started to panic. “All right,” he finally said.

Buffy glanced over her shoulder to where Giles’ tiny car was still idling noisily at the curb. She could clearly picture the look of disapproval on her Watcher’s face even though she couldn’t see him. “I’ll unlock the back door, okay?”

Spike squeezed her hand before pulling from her grasp. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll stick around.” Buffy nodded, relieved, and went to do as instructed.

***

Spike stared out into the darkness of the Slayer’s backyard, wishing for a cigarette. He had no idea how the hell he’d ended up here. And he was even less sure of the reason he was currently obeying the Slayer’s command to stay instead of haring off into the night like a proper vampire. He’d always been a contrarian, maybe that was it.

He sighed, rubbing his head again. The mild headache was nothing compared to what the chip had done to him before, but it still made him uneasy. The Gem kept his body in good physical shape, but how much damage could his brain take? He’d have to figure out a way to get the thing out of his head, later.

Spike turned and went into the house. He didn’t hear splashing upstairs anymore. Buffy must be done with her bath. Maybe he should go talk to her, try and figure out what was going on. He climbed the stairs and followed the clean scent of her into her room, stopping in the doorway. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed with her wet hair curling around her shoulders and a comb hanging limply from her hand.

“Slayer?”

She turned her head towards him, looking exhausted. Christ, he wished he’d killed all those bleeding wankers instead of just knocking them around, even if she’d asked him not to. Maybe if he was lucky a couple of them wouldn’t pull through. Buffy was wearing a pair of thin cotton shorts and a tank top that was riding up on her torso, exposing the pink scars she’d acquired while that madwoman was trying to genetically engineer a new kind of vampire.

Spike gripped the doorframe tightly, hearing the wood creak under his hands. He fought back his demon as rage swirled through him and took a few breaths until he felt under control again.

“Are we still there?” Buffy asked, her voice small and afraid.

It took him a moment to realize what she was afraid of. Spike moved from the doorway, crouching down in front of her and pushing her wet hair away from her face. “No, kitten, we’re out now. You’re safe as houses.” She was still fighting off whatever drug it was they’d shot her with, he could see it in her glassy eyes. She nodded, looking less than convinced. “Feeling okay?”

Buffy scrunched up her nose in contemplation and finally nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

Spike stared up at her shiny clean face. He didn’t understand how those idiots could look at her and see anything but the glorious woman she was. She’d saved the world more times than those sods had shaved in the morning. He rested his hands on her knees, drawing her attention. “All right if I have a wash, Slayer?”

“Of course.” Buffy shook her head like she was trying to clear it. “I’m sorry. Let me get a towel.” He padded silently after her as she went to a closet in the hall and handed him a well-worn towel. It smelled like her. “Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to leave?”

Spike was silent for a long moment. He could hear a clock ticking somewhere in the house. The overhead light was dim and her face was mostly in shadow. “Do you want me to?”  

“I don’t know.” He heard her say so softly he almost missed it. “But I…not right now, Spike.”

Spike took an unneeded breath and reached out to tip her chin up with one hand so he could see her eyes. “Not going anywhere just yet, yeah? We’ve got those soldier boys to take out.”

“You’re going to help?” She sounded startled

Spike kept his gaze steady on her face.  “Course, Slayer. Hurt you, didn’t they?” Buffy nodded slowly, her eyes wide. He tucked a strand of damp hair behind one of her ears. “Don’t see how we can let that stand.”

“Okay,” Buffy said quietly, staring like she thought he might disappear at any moment. Her hands were resting on the towel pressed against his chest.

“Here.” He shook his coat off his arms, handing it to her. She looked up at him as he traded it for the towel, perplexed. “You know I won’t leave without that. Hang onto it for me?”

Buffy glanced down at the leather draped over her arms, a small smiling playing on her lips. “You have kind of an unhealthy attachment, you know that?”

Spike grinned down at her. “Yeah,” he said. He turned and went into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind him. Steam still covered the mirrors. He wondered if he looked as soppy as he felt just then. He’d just given her his jacket like a bleeding schoolboy. He was a fool. She was the Slayer and he was the thing she hunted in the night, now that they were free again.

He stripped off the filthy scrubs he was wearing and tossed them in a corner before climbing into the shower, inhaling deeply as the water sluiced over his skin. There were so many pieces of her in here. The soap she used, her girly scrubbing thing hanging over one faucet knob. He picked up the myriad of shampoos clustered in one corner, opening each one and taking a whiff before finding the one he wanted. It reminded him of that first time he’d seen her in the sunlight, her hair gleaming and golden. She’d been magnificent.

The vampire finished up in record time, scrubbing himself dry with the towel she’d given him and dropping it to the floor before he realized he didn’t have any other clothes. He eyed the dirty scrubs distastefully before dismissing them and picking up the towel, wrapping it around his waist as he exited the bathroom. Maybe she’d have some things he could borrow for the night.

“Sla-” He stopped in his tracks, catching sight of her. She was standing by her vanity, slowly dragging a comb through her hair, her hands almost lost beneath the long sleeves of his coat.

She was wearing his coat. He propped himself up in the doorframe, watching her.

“Better?” she asked.

He smiled as she turned to look at him. “Yeah.” He moved a little closer, reaching out to slide a hand through her hair. Buffy closed her eyes and sighed. Spike fingered the damp strands. “Can I…” he trailed off, worried suddenly that he was bothering her.

Her eyes opened and she gave him a tiny smile. “Can you what?”

Spike ducked his head. “Brush it?”

Buffy stared at him for a long moment with a strange, tender expression. “Okay.” Spike thought his smile might split his face. She slipped his jacket off her shoulders and carefully set it on a nearby chair before moving to the bed. She settled down cross-legged before noticing how he was dressed. “Oh, I might have something…” Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted down his torso.

“Let’s do you first, kitten,” he said, fighting a smirk. It was nice to know he affected her a little, too.  Buffy just nodded as he settled behind her on the bed and she handed him her hair things. He spent a few minutes unsnarling the knots before her locks were dry enough to brush. Buffy was listing to one side, her head moving with every stroke as Spike propped her up with one hand on her shoulder and dragged the brush through her hair. Her scent was surrounding him and the perfectly even trails the bristles made in her lovely hair were mesmerizing.

“Promise we’re out?” Buffy asked again, her voice tired and raspy.

Spike paused in his brushing and moved to sit beside her. He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. “Promise.”

“Will you kiss me now?” she asked in that same sleepy voice.

He sucked in a breath. “Yeah, beautiful, if you want.”

“Please,” she said, her green eyes shining bright. Her hand reached out and settled on the bare skin of his chest. Spike couldn’t look away from her, his lovely Slayer.  Buffy was watching him silently. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers softly, feeling her mouth open underneath him. She still had one hand resting on his chest. The other moved up to touch his cheek, her thumb sweeping over his face with such gentleness he thought he might have imagined it.

“Spike,” she whispered, drawing back. He opened his eyes, not sure when he’d closed them.

“Yeah?”

Her hand traced down the line of his nose and across his top lip. She was giving him that look she had once before, the one that made him want to promise her anything. He struggled to hold his tongue. She was the Slayer. She’d already told him this thing between them was impossible.

“Stay here?” She closed the distance between them, nestling in against his chest and closing her eyes. “Please, don’t go.”

Spike took another breath. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, but this was pushing the limits of his control. He still didn’t know how to deny her. Spike carefully rearranged them until they were lying on her bed, dragging a blanket up to cover her. She draped her arm across his chest like she had during the nights they’d spent together in the cell. He shifted uncomfortably, his lower half still wrapped in a wet towel, but he’d be damned if he was going to voice a complaint. Her soft hair tickled his nose as she rested her head against his shoulder.

“Sleep now, love,” he whispered.

“Okay.” Her eyes slipped shut.

He lay there for a long while listening to her breathe, feeling her warmth spreading through him as she lay there with him in her bed, trusting him. A calm, peaceful feeling welled up inside his chest. He wondered how he’d spent the last hundred years without it, without her.

She inhaled deeply next to him, pressing her face into his shoulder and relaxing again. He slipped one of his hands down to her hip and pulled her whole body against him. He tucked his nose into her shining hair, let his eyes close, and finally joined her in sleep.

***

The first thing Buffy became aware of was that she couldn’t move, and as she struggled into wakefulness she wanted to cry. She was still strapped to a table, she thought despairingly, she hadn’t gotten out. She’d just had a wonderful, impossible dream. She whimpered quietly and pulled at her bonds.

“’S’alright,” a familiar voice rumbled in her ear.

Buffy finally got her eyes open and she sucked in a deep breath as Spike ran a hand soothingly down her arm. She was in her room, she saw with relief as she recognized her surroundings. In her room, on her bed, with _Spike_. She could feel him curled up next to her, their legs tangled in the blankets. One of his arms was under her head and the other was draped over her waist, holding her close.

The light in the room was dim and she had no idea what time it was. Or what day it was. She hoped it wasn’t Tuesday. She let her mind wander and knew she was just avoiding thinking about her mortal enemy, or former mortal enemy she supposed, holding her in a loose embrace.

She lay there quietly for a long time, no wanting to break the moment. Finally, she gathered her courage and turned her head. There he was. She marveled at how right it felt to see Spike there, nose to nose with her, when it shouldn’t be anything but wrong. She carefully brushed her thumb over his lower lip before moving so close that she couldn’t focus on his face anymore but just pieces of it, like the edge of his jaw, or the sweep of his eyelashes.

Buffy closed the tiny distance between them and kissed him, gently pressing her lips to his. She knew he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t want to give up all the things that made him a vampire that she was supposed to dust. Spike didn’t even have a soul, although she felt like that didn’t really matter much anymore.

His eyes were open when she pulled back. “Hey,” she whispered. “What time is it?”

Spike blinked slowly before answering. His arm was still draped over her waist and she could feel the pads of his fingers stroking her lower back. “Couple hours to sunset,” he finally replied.

She nodded and watched him watch her for several minutes. The silence reminded her a little of their time sitting quietly on the bench.

“This is nice,” she finally said.

His lips quirked up a little. “Could make it nicer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “That’s not-” she trailed off, exasperated and a tiny bit pleased. He made her feel so extraordinary. Like nothing and no one else mattered when she was in front of him. It was thrilling, and also a tiny bit frightening, to be the object of that kind of focus. “I meant, waking up like this. Usually I’m by myself,” she ended wistfully.

Spike frowned and she felt the arm around her tighten. “What…?” he started, and then his frown deepened to a scowl. “Wankers.”

Buffy tried to smile at him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Slayer, nothing about those pillocks is okay. You’re better than a thousand of them put together.”

Buffy blinked at the fierce tone in his voice. “Oh.”

He reached up and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. “Better than all of them, better than me.” His tone was soft now, his hand soothing where it slipped through the ends of her hair.

Buffy didn’t quite know how to respond to that. “I…Spike.” She took a breath. “I wouldn’t have made it out without you. You’re…thank you.”

His lips curved into a smile she hadn’t seen since he was William in the haunted basement on Halloween. It was shy and unsure and absolutely breathtaking. “Anytime, love.”

She curled her hands around his shoulders, feeling her body thrum in response to his proximity. “You…” she couldn’t find the words she wanted, couldn’t figure out how to tell him what it meant that he would fight like that for her, with her. “I…” She slipped one leg up over his hip and held him close, realizing after a moment that he wasn’t wearing anything at all. Her lips curved up in a smile as her hands slid down to his bare hip, her fingertips grazing his backside.

“Buffy,” he said, low and quiet.

It was her name that did it, the way he said it like the beginning of a hymn. She crushed her lips to his, feeling his mouth open under her assault as she used her tongue to do much more interesting things than fumble for words. His hand fisted into her hair and he rolled them both so that he was partially on top of her.

“Oh god,” she gasped as he kissed down the line of her throat. “Spike.”

“Buffy,” he said reverently against her collarbone. She closed her eyes and clutched him so tightly she knew something would have broken had he been human.

“Please,” she begged, not even sure what she was asking for, her hips bucking up against his pelvis. She could feel how hard he was, the long line of his arousal pushing against her thigh.

“Shh, love, I’ve got you,” he whispered, coming back up to her mouth and kissing her dizzy. His hands were under her shirt, pushing it up and over her head.

She arched up as he captured a pink nipple in his mouth, worrying it gently between his teeth while he used his thumb to bring her other nipple to a peak. “ _Please_.”

“So good,” he mumbled, kissing a line down her stomach.

“Need you,” she gasped, locking her legs around his back and curling her fingers into his hair. She’d never been so wet, her core throbbing with need. She could hear him gasping, too. She slid her hands possessively down the planes of his back, moving to caress his chest, mapping his ivory skin.

“Spike,” she pleaded, her hips undulating under him. She couldn’t find the friction she needed. He groaned and jerked her shorts and panties down, his fingers parting her slippery folds and caressing her there. “ _Yes_!” A fire sparked to life between her legs.

“So hot, so wet for me,” he hissed. His fingers found her sensitive nub, rubbing it in slow circles as he moved down, kissing each of her new scars with soft lips before sliding even lower. No one had ever touched her the way he did, like he was memorizing every inch of her. She held her breath as he inched down, her thighs quivering in anticipation. 

“I’ve got you,” he rasped in the same way he’d said it when he’d carried her out of that nightmarish lab. Buffy felt his lips and tongue exploring the slick flesh between her legs. Her hips popped up off the bed of their own volition as he slipped two fingers inside of her just as his mouth found her clit.

She gasped, twining one hand into his messy hair and clutching a handful of blankets with the other. He moaned against her skin, his tongue working some kind of magic that sent shivers up her spine as his fingers stroked her inner walls. He had one hand on her hip, pinning her down to the bed as he tended to her swollen nub. She could feel her climax building, pooling low in her belly. He added a third finger, pressing it inside of her and dragging it over just the right spot, making her bow up off the bed as her orgasm hit.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, and still he continued, his mouth and fingers working together to drive her even higher. Buffy was fairly certain that she was going to die of pleasure. He’d figured out how to kill her after all. She felt a smile bloom on her face as she reached for him with both hands, tugging his hair until he lifted his head with a growl.

“Spike.”

He nuzzled the inside juncture of her hip and thigh, biting it gently with blunt teeth before starting his journey back up her body. He kissed her scars again and traced the undersides of her breasts with his tongue and his fingers before returning his attention to her nipples.

Buffy felt like she was going to explode if he wasn’t inside her right then. She yanked at the blankets that were keeping her from feeling his entire body against hers. “Now, Spike, _now_.” She was almost chanting, babbling her want as he slammed his lips to hers and untangled his legs from the fabric until they were finally pressed flesh to flesh, with nothing to keep them apart.

His arousal was digging into her thigh, hard and urgent. She would think about how they had gotten here later. Right now he was all she’d ever wanted.

“Buffy,” he murmured, kissing her jaw and nipping at her skin as he grasped her hips and ground down against her.

“ _Yes_.” She reached between them, wrapping her hand around his erection and guiding it to her entrance. Spike groaned, his forehead resting against her shoulder as he slid into her easily, filling her in a way she hadn’t even known she’d needed. Her mouth fell open as her head tipped back.

His fingers were biting into her hip as he started to move, his pelvis rocking against hers while he thrust deep into her and repeated her name like a mantra.

She tried to say his name but she lost the ability to speak as he drove into her again and again, her hips rising eagerly to meet his. She dug her fingers into his flesh with one hand, urging him on, while her other hand slid over his bicep, his back, his hair, anything she could reach. Her legs that’d been twined around his torso migrated upwards until one was over his shoulder and the other was tucked just under his arm.

He braced himself up over her and his pelvis was grazing just the right spot with every plunge of his cock and then she was coming apart, floating away, pleasure radiating from the center of her outward to the very edges of her body. She felt her inner walls clenching, holding him there as he gasped in surprise and his rhythm stuttered. Buffy’s entire being felt suffused with bliss as he recovered himself and followed her over the edge a few strokes later.

“Oh, _”_ she breathed, pulling him down to kiss him again, trying to tell him with her lips what he made her feel.

He returned her kiss with enthusiasm, his hands gently cupping her face before he collapsed beside her. She let out a tiny gasp as his softening cock slipped from her body and she felt rather than heard his chuckle reverberate through his chest as he pulled her close, burying his face in her hair as his fingers slipped through it.

“My beautiful Buffy.” He kissed her gently behind one ear.

She sighed in pleasure, her mind spinning with fantasies that she knew could never happen. “We’re out?” she couldn’t help asking. This all seemed like such a strange, wonderful dream.

“We’re out,” Spike’s voice rumbled in her ear. “Not going to let them have you again.”

“Where will you go, after?” Her heart clenched. Of course he would leave once they’d stopped The Initiative. This was _crazy_. This was as far from normal as she could get.

Spike frowned, still stroking her hair. “After what?”

Buffy snuggled closer to him, wanting to prolong their contact. “After we shut them down.”

“Buffy.” He tipped her chin up and she opened her eyes. He was still frowning. “Why would I go?”

She shrugged and looked over his shoulder so she didn’t have to meet his eyes. “Because we can’t…this won’t work.”

He growled low in his throat. “Told you not to say that.” Her eyes snapped back to him, startled. His expression softened. “Just…trust me, Buffy. Please?”

Buffy’s mind went blank. It was the last thing she’d expected him to ask, and it made her simultaneously want to pull him closer and run far, far away. He was the same vampire who’d tried to kill her, who had killed _for_ her, and now he wanted something she wasn’t even sure she could give him. They were back in the real world now, and things were a lot more complicated.

She still didn’t want him to leave.

Spike was staring at her, his expression solemn as he waited for her reply. Buffy kissed him. “Okay,” she said, pushing away her fears. She’d think about it later. His answering smile made her shiver in anticipation.


	13. I Don't Want to Change the World

The Watcher was eyeing him suspiciously, Spike noted. The vampire propped himself up against the wall at the bottom of the staircase he was sitting on, watching his Slayer explain to her friends for the hundredth time why he, an evil bloodsucking vampire, was sitting unstaked in her Watcher’s living room.

They’d been at it for over an hour already. Buffy had told Red, Harris, and demon-girl an abbreviated version of their Initiative capture, containment and escape, but Spike noticed how careful she was to never let anything slip regarding their closeness. It was making him twitchy and his demon resentful.

The only thing keeping his mouth shut was that practically every time she said his name her cheeks turned pink, giving his girl a lovely glow. Her Watcher had already noticed this, hence the suspicion. The witch was starting to eye him speculatively, but Harris was still completely in the dark. Anya just looked bored. Spike suspected he and the ex-demon would get along just fine if the whelp wasn't around.

“But he’s a vampire, Buff. Seriously, it’s _Spike_.”

Buffy sighed and Spike suppressed a sigh of his own. That was pretty much the gist of Harris’ argument at this point and no matter how many times Buffy tried to explain, it didn’t seem like the boy was going to change his tune anytime soon.

It rankled Spike how much his great poof of a grandsire had influenced Buffy and her little friends. At first the conversation had gone in circles: blah blah soul good, blah blah soulless evil. That was followed by a longwinded argument about Nazis and serial killers that the Watcher had eventually put a stop to.

There’d been a brief discussion of the chip that had been shoved in Spike’s brain but with the Gem it was rather a moot point, thank Christ. Besides, he wasn’t interested in giving his Slayer a reason to dust him so soon, especially not after what had happened this morning. He would do his best to keep her happy, even if he was still a little unclear on the rules. He did know he probably shouldn’t kill Harris, despite the boy being annoying as sin.

At least he didn’t have to deal with the Slayer’s mum quite yet, though he suspected Joyce already had a bit of a soft spot for him. From the length of his Slayer’s phone conversation earlier he’d gathered Joyce wasn’t happy about the order to stay away, but in the end she’d finally agreed. Unfortunately, that’d cut his own time with Buffy drastically shorter than he would have liked.

 “Um, Xander,” the witch said, glancing at Buffy and then at Spike again. “Why don’t we just…see?”

“See? _See_?” Xander threw up his hands. “See what, Willow? See how many times he can try and kill us? See how long he waits before murdering us all in our beds?”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t want to see you in bed, Harris,” Spike interrupted, examining his nails. The varnish was long gone. Maybe Buffy would have some of his preferred color at her house. “I’d wait until you were fully clothed.”

Xander sputtered as Buffy rolled her eyes and shot a glare at Spike, who shrugged unapologetically. He was tired of the boy’s whining.

“He’s quite nicely shaped, actually,” Anya chimed in suddenly. “But I’d rather you didn’t see him naked, that’s just for me.”

Spike curled his lip as Harris went red. Buffy and Willow were rendered speechless.

“Be that as it may,” Giles said into the silence. “I think Spike may have earned a temporary reprieve.” He shot a look at the vampire and then at Buffy. “Not that we will forget what you are, of course.” Buffy looked chastened and Spike glared at the pompous git. Watchers were all the same.

“Not that we could do anything about it once he gets tired of pretending to be good,” Xander snorted. “Since you let him have the Gem back.”

“I told you, Xander,” Buffy said impatiently. “He needed it to be able to fight the soldiers.”

“So he says,” the boy muttered, slouching back and crossing his arms.

“I never would have gotten out without him, don’t you get that? Did you want me stuck in that awful place forever?” Buffy’s voice was pitched rather higher than usual.

Xander frowned at her outburst and Spike curled his hands into fists, wanting so badly to go to her and soothe her fears away. He caught her eye and she gave him a tight smile while he watched her pull herself together.

“No,” Xander said, still sulking. “Of course not.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I let him have the damn ring.”

“But-” Xander started again. Spike let out a growl just as Buffy shot to her feet, her hands on her hips.

“Enough!” Her hard tone startled everyone in the room but the vampire. There she was, his fiery Slayer. Spike loved seeing her like that. Even the Watcher was polishing his glasses, recovering himself. “I say he stays, so he stays. End of discussion.”

Spike smirked as Xander shot him a murderous glare. The vampire got to his feet. “As exciting as this little tea party’s been, I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like eat people,” Xander muttered under his breath.

Buffy furrowed her brow and glanced at her Watcher before looking back at Spike. He saw her take a deep breath. “I’ll see you later?”

Spike wanted to kiss her for that implicit belief in him, except that would give away everything between them and she obviously wasn’t willing to share, not yet. “Course, Slayer.”

The Watcher cleared his throat. “I do have some news regarding another possible ally. Perhaps you’d like to hear about it?” Spike lifted an eyebrow, realizing the question was directed at him. The vampire wasn’t sure if the man was trying to stall him or was actually trying to include him, but regardless, Spike had his own plans for the evening.

“Sorry, mate, got an appointment. Slayer can fill me in later, yeah?” He glanced at Buffy.

“Yeah,” she said, her eyes softening.

He stood up, enjoying the feel of his own clothes on his back. The dash to his car’s hiding spot wearing only his duster had been a thrill and luckily his beloved Desoto had been just where he’d left it. The weight of his coat was settled over his shoulders, and the Gem was glinting on his finger, right where it should be. He finally felt like a proper vampire again.

Spike nodded. “Later then, Slayer.” He dipped his chin at her before heading towards the door, trailing his fingers through the ends of her hair as he passed by her seat. The Watcher was droning on, something about old friends and colleagues, so no one seemed to notice except Buffy, who tilted her head back against his hand for a second. Spike let himself out of the Watcher’s apartment and took a moment to light a cigarette before disappearing into the night. He had soldiers to find.

***

Giles chattered for several minutes after Spike left, but Buffy was having trouble concentrating. She didn’t like that Spike was out there alone, but he hadn’t asked her to come along. He had the Gem, which should keep him out of The Initiative’s clutches even if they did find him. She vaguely heard Giles talking about sticking to their normal schedules and keeping low profiles but she figured that wasn’t really meant for her anyway.

Intellectually, she completely understood her friends’ reluctance to accept that Spike was on their side now, even if it hurt to hear them question her judgment. She’d thought about asking the vampire if she could hold onto the Gem but he couldn’t defend himself without it and besides, that seemed like a betrayal of his belief that she trusted him. And she did trust him, she told herself firmly. She shoved away a little niggling feeling of doubt.

Spike had never lied to her, even when he’d been trying to kill her. That was more than she could say about Angel, or Giles, or even Xander. She frowned at the people surrounding her. She trusted them, but they definitely didn’t trust her opinion regarding Spike, which really wasn’t fair. They were all comparing him to Angel, even her, when Spike had proven he was in a category all his own.

“I have to tell you something,” Buffy blurted out, interrupting Giles.

Her Watcher paused and the others turned to her expectantly. Her heart started beating a little faster. Buffy had missed them all like crazy, but right then she desperately missed Spike. He was the only one who understood how weird it was that that people were actually _listening_ to her when she spoke. Her friend’s faces swam in her vision for a moment as she fought to remain calm.

“Yes?” Giles prompted her. Buffy focused on the remembered sensation of Spike’s hand slipping through her hair as he walked past. She was safe, she was out.

Buffy took a breath. “I…Spike isn’t Angel.” It wasn’t quite what she meant to say, but it would do for now. She was still trying to figure out what had happened between her and Spike, so there was seriously no need to go into details.

Giles blinked at her and even Willow looked perplexed. Xander groaned and pulled a throw pillow over his face. “Of course not,” Anya said matter-of-factly, looking up from a book she was perusing. “Why would we confuse them? One’s a large, dark-haired vampire with a soul who turns evil after coitus, and the other isn’t.”

Everyone turned to stare at Anya. Buffy smiled. “Exactly,” she said in satisfaction. “Thank you, Anya.”

“You’re welcome.” Xander’s girlfriend went back to her book, which Buffy noticed was about fertility rituals. She really hoped Xander knew what he was getting into this time.

Giles cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m not quite following, Buffy.”

“I trust Spike,” Buffy said firmly. “And I need you to do the same.”

“Buffy,” Giles took his glasses off and gave them a vigorous cleaning. “Despite his recent behavior, which is indeed strange, I’ll grant you, he’s no different from any other vampire that you’re charged with dispatching.”

“Who says?” Buffy crossed her arms.

Giles’ jaw dropped in astonishment. “I should say several hundred years of research and observation, Buffy.”

“From the Council?”

“Well, yes, of course, but-”

“They’re wrong.”

Giles put his glasses back on and stood up, starting to pace. “Buffy, I know you’re upset, but you cannot just spit in the face of the preeminent authority on-”

“Do vampires have feelings, Giles?”

Her Watcher paused, standing by the entrance to the kitchen. Willow and Xander’s eyes were flicking back and forth between Buffy and Giles like they were watching a tennis match. “They feel pain, hunger, and physical discomforts, of course.”

“No,” Buffy said challengingly. “You know what I’m asking.” Her stomach twisted a little as she silently pled for her Watcher to understand.

Giles threw up his hands in exasperation. “Of course not! Didn’t Angel already explain this to you?”

Buffy stood up, her fists clenching. “You’re wrong. I’ve seen it.” She thought of the way Spike had held her last night and this morning. How he’d tried to help her when they were stuck in that awful place.

Giles’ eyes narrowed. “You’ve had a very traumatic experience, Buffy. Spike is taking advantage of your natural empathy to revenge himself against the people who have caused him pain. This is a practical alliance for him. He is simply not capable of human emotions.”

“He is.” Buffy lifted her chin, trying to keep it from trembling. She was right about this, she knew she was. Spike was different.

“Dear lord.” Giles rubbed his temple and sighed. “Listen, we can debate this another time. I think for the time being we need to focus on the bigger threat, which is this…Initiative. I’ve contacted a few colleagues from the Council and-” Giles held out his hand to forestall Buffy’s objection. “And much like Spike, I’m afraid I must insist you believe me when I say they are on our side.” His eyes held a glint of defiance, like he expected Buffy to object. She didn’t, choosing to sit down again, her jaw clenched.

Willow was wringing her hands worriedly. “Well…well maybe we can find some more people to help with research and stuff. I know Riley’s been asking-”

“Riley?” Buffy interrupted in astonishment.

Willow blinked at her. “Uh, yeah, he’s been really nice since you…went missing, checking in on me and stuff. He asks about you all the time.” 

“Do not talk to him again.” Buffy’s tone was harsher than she’d meant it to be.

Willow flinched back. “B-but…”

“He’s one of them.”

Willow’s mouth dropped open, her eyes wide. “What?” she asked squeakily.

Giles furrowed his brow. “That’s right. You said you believe many of the soldiers are posing as students?” Buffy nodded.

Buffy leveled her gaze at her friend. “Stay away from him. And anyone who hangs out with him.”

“Riley?” Willow repeated. She got a faraway look in her eye. “That’s why he was asking about you so much.” 

Giles frowned. “Why didn’t you say something, Willow?”

“Well, I…” Willow was fidgeting with her sweater nervously. “He was asking about her family and stuff and I thought…I thought he just had a crush on her and was worried! He didn’t seem like a bad guy. I didn’t tell him anything, I promise. I mean, what would I have said?”

Giles seemed to rein himself in. “It’s all right,” he said wearily. “None of us could have known.”

Willow fluttered her hands in distress. “I have another friend maybe-”

“Military-looking?” Buffy asked suspiciously.

Willow shook her head emphatically. “No, no, I met her in Wicca group. She’s a witch, a real one I mean. We’ve been doing spells and everything.”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, she’s okay. The Initiative didn’t even know about magic.”

Giles frowned. “Didn’t?”

Buffy bit her lip. “Well, Spike and I tricked them into giving the Gem back by saying it would magically, uh, help…you know.” Buffy glanced at her Watcher. She hadn’t told her friends everything that she’d gone through while she was down there. “But they thought magic wasn’t real.”

Xander snorted. “Right. Demons are real but magic isn’t? That totally makes sense.”

Buffy almost smiled. “That’s what Spike said.” Xander made a face but didn’t comment further.

“Perhaps that weakness can be exploited,” Giles said thoughtfully. “Willow, can you bring your friend by in the morning? I’m expecting some old friends of my own.” He moved over to the bookcase and started perusing the volumes, muttering under his breath.

Willow nodded and looked over at Buffy. “Um, Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Willow gave her a small smile. “And I’m glad…well, I know it must have been scary, but it sounds like Spike really helped you and I’ll try to be, um, more accepting.”

Buffy felt her shoulders sag in relief. At least someone was willing to give the vampire a chance. “Thanks, Will.” 

Giles was making piles of books on the coffee table, each stack increasing the look of misery on Xander’s face as the Watcher barked instructions about what kinds of useful spells they were looking for.

Willow leaned in closer to Buffy as Xander and Giles started loudly debating the merits of pepperoni versus ham and pineapple for the research session pizza. “Was Spike being nice to you before?”

“What? When?” Buffy furrowed her brow.

Willow was eyeing Buffy appraisingly. “You know, all those times you sat with him in the quad?”

“You knew about that?” Buffy hissed under her breath, glancing over at her Watcher.

“I saw you guys a couple times.” Willow shrugged. “He’s kinda hard to miss. I didn’t want to say anything because you always seemed a little…better afterwards.”

Buffy hesitated while she considered Willow’s question. She remembered the way Spike had stroked her hair while they sat together on their bench and he told her things that she didn’t quite understand, not then. “Yeah, I guess he was being nice before.”

“Huh.” Willow looked thoughtful. “So the thing with Parker…?”

“Was very bad,” Buffy said quickly. “He knows that. He didn’t even try to kill anyone on purpose when we escaped.”

Willow eyed her. “He killed Parker because of what happened between you two, didn’t he?”

Buffy chewed on her lower lip. The pizza debate was getting heated behind her, even Anya was chiming in. “Yeah,” Buffy admitted.

“Did you know that?”

“…Yes,” Buffy winced.

Willow winced with her. “Oh, that’s why you were so…well. I mean, I guess Spike really isn’t that bad, for a vampire. He didn’t even hurt me much that one time he kidnapped me and Xander. I felt a little sorry for him, actually.”

Buffy gaped at her friend in astonishment. “Uh…okay?”

Willow glanced over at the others. Xander was sulking and demanding extra packets of red pepper flakes to cover up the fruity taste while Giles placed their order, ignoring him. “I just wanted you to know.” Willow shrugged. “Since he’s being, uh, helpful now. And continuing to keep your hair leaf-free.”

Buffy felt herself blush but met Willow’s gaze steadily. “Thanks?” Her friend had a knowing gleam in her eye as she nodded. Buffy picked up one of the nearest books as a distraction. “I can’t believe how much I missed,” she said wistfully as Willow grabbed a book and settled down next to her. “Even Christmas.”

Willow smiled a little. “And finals.”

“Okay, so there’s an upside.” Buffy smiled back. “I missed you too, Will.”

“Let’s stop these jerks from taking anyone else, then.”

***

“I told you, I don’t know!” Willy’s beady eyes were guileless.

Spike wondered idly which came first: Willy’s character or his snitching. The vampire had never met anyone who so perfectly personified the twisted desperation of a human being willing to sell his own mother to save his skin.

Spike tapped his fingers on the bar as he tossed back a shot of Willy’s finest blood (it was not particularly fine; nor was it, Spike could taste, entirely human). “You’re telling me,” the vampire said calmly, “that you, the owner of this demon rat trap who hears more than anyone in this entire blasted town, have no idea what I’m talking about?”

Willy’s eyes darted around the room while he thought about how to answer. Spike gestured for another shot of blood. He was willing to sit here all night if that’s what it took. There wasn’t much that scared Willy more than Spike, which made Spike think Willy knew a lot more than he was saying. No way does a man whose entire existence revolved around surviving not notice when his clientele starts going missing.

“Uh, nope?” Beads of sweat were gathering on Willy’s shiny head.

The sight reminded Spike of something he’d been trying not to think about since he and Buffy had escaped captivity. Spike was sure that Angel loomed large in the Slayer’s mind, just like Peaches’ oversized forehead. He hadn’t quite gotten up the courage to ask the Slayer about his grandsire, but he’d heard the great poof had pranced off to L.A. to fight crime, or something equally inane. How Angel could bear to leave Buffy behind was something Spike would never understand, but then, he rarely understood any of Angelus’ decisions. Spike only prayed his Slayer wasn’t using him as a placeholder until that puffed up git came waltzing back into her life.

Willy poured another shot of blood, also refilling Spike’s glass of whiskey without prompting. Now the vampire definitely knew Willy was hiding something. The little weasel never did anything without someone forcing him to. “Sorry,” the sniveling human added as Spike continued to sit in silence. Willy’s hands were starting to shake. “Did ya check over at the Fishtank? Plenty of bottomfeeders there that might know more than ol’ Willy.”

Spike raised one eyebrow and knocked back the blood, followed by the whiskey. Willy’s right eye was twitching uncontrollably. The man was the worst poker player Spike had ever met. The vampire slid his whiskey glass back over the bar and waited as Willy filled it again. God, it tasted even better than Spike had imagined when he’d been laying half-starved in his Initiative cell.

“Listen to me, you idiot,” Spike said, keeping his voice low and menacing. “You’re in this up to your neck. You think they’ll leave you alone? They’re studying us, and your bar’s been serving demonkind for years. They’ll toss you into an interrogation cell without a second thought. You know what happens to official snitches, Willy?”

Willy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as the man’s face turned pale under the sheen of sweat. “Uh, no?”

Spike leaned forward and Willy unconsciously did too. “They die, Willy,” the vampire said softly. “Government doesn’t like people knowing their secrets.”

Willy glanced around the bar. Spike had noticed how empty it was when he’d come in that evening. Things were getting bad on the hellmouth and, surprisingly, it wasn’t a demon causing the trouble this time. “Look,” Willy sounded more nervous than Spike had ever heard. The vampire was almost insulted but his ego was soothed by the thought that once he took out The Initiative he’d rocket right back to the top of Willy’s ‘to be feared’ list. “Just…don’t tell anyone this came from me, alright?”

Spike refrained from rolling his eyes. Everyone in town knew information flowed through this sewer of a man. “Sure,” the vampire agreed readily.

“You should go see Rudy, down by the old factory. You know the one?”

Spike sighed. He knew the one. He hated that factory. All of his most ignoble defeats were handed to him in that factory. “Yeah, I know it.”

“If anyone’s seen those military guys you’re looking for, Rudy will know about it. That’s all I got.” 

Spike stood up and tossed back the rest of his whiskey. Willy opened his mouth but seemed to think better of asking for payment when Spike narrowed his eyes. “Trust me, mate, you’re going to owe me for life.”

Willy nodded gloomily and moved away from Spike to help a yellow, cat-eyed demon wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt who’d wandered in. Spike heard the demon ask if Willy had seen his wife, but then the door swung closed and cut off their conversation.

Spike fumbled for another smoke. Rudy, Willy had said. Spike grimaced. He’d never liked that sod. Though to be fair Spike wasn’t a fan of Chaos demons in general. So full of themselves, thinking they were the only one who knew how to throw a wrench in the best laid plans. Not to mention the disgusting slime. Spike shuddered. Well, there was nothing for it. He thought of his Slayer, pale and lifeless in a cell while that bitch of a mad-scientist tried to breed her like cattle. No way in hell was he letting that happen again.

***

Buffy stifled another yawn, the words in front of her swimming across the page. Xander’s soft snores punctuated the silence and even Willow looked like she wasn’t enjoying herself anymore. Only Giles seemed as alert as when they’d first started. He had a cup of tea on the table next to him, but his extremely mellow demeanor at the obvious slacking of the others had Buffy suspecting that his “tea” might have an extra ingredient.

“Giles?” Buffy ventured. Her Watcher looked up from the book he was thumbing through. “I think we should call it a night.”

Giles looked around at the others, frowning slightly. “Yes, it does look that way.”

Willow heaved a relieved sigh and closed the oversized tome on her lap before letting it thump onto the coffee table. “Sounds good. I’ll be back with Tara in the morning.” She stood and stretched, taking a moment to kick Xander’s foot, startling him awake.

“I’m up!” Xander yelped.

Anya’s head dropped down to her book and she jerked up again, blinking owlishly. “What?”

“Time to go home,” Willow said. Buffy detected a hint of churlishness in her friend’s tone that Anya seemed to ignore, or possibly just not notice.

“Finally,” Xander yawned. “I’m pooped.”

“Yes, a two hour nap can really take it out of a man.” Giles rolled his eyes. “Please come back in the morning so we can continue working on this. We shouldn’t wait long to strike.”

Xander gave Giles a half-hearted salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

Anya looked perkier as she pulled on her jacket. “Oh, pirates! I think I still have those boots from last time we played swashbuckler and helpless maiden. Let’s go, Xander.” She dragged him out the door before he’d finished saying his goodbyes.

Buffy stared after them in amusement. “Is she always like that?”

“Yes,” Willow grumbled.

Buffy eyed her friend worriedly. Willow had briefly filled her in on what had happened while she’d been missing, but other than mentioning that Oz was gone, Willow had been strangely silent on the subject of her ex-boyfriend.

Buffy tucked her hair up into a ball cap before she retrieved her oversized (and hopefully inconspicuous) jacket and waved at Giles. She followed Willow out the door and took a moment to survey the area. “None of them came to talk to Giles?”

Willow shook her head. “Riley didn’t mention him. Maybe he was afraid it would make him look suspicious, since he didn’t know you that well.” She looked thoughtful. “I wonder if that’s why he kept asking about your family.”

“My mom said some guys came to the house while I was gone. I think one of them might have been Riley.”

Willow glanced at her guiltily. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”

“You didn’t know,” Buffy said quietly. “At least that helped me convince Mom not to come back until The Initiative is gone. I guess they kind of scared her.”

“We thought they were snooping around for the Council. I helped Giles do that protection spell but your mom decided to leave for a while anyways.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Thanks for looking out for her, Will.” Willow just nodded glumly. They both fell quiet as they walked. After almost a block, Buffy broke the silence again. “I’m sorry about Oz.”

Willow hunched into her jacket. “Thanks. It was really hard at first, but I’m getting better.”

Buffy bit her lip. “What happened?”

“He wanted to figure out the wolf thing on his own.”

“Oh.” Buffy wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it sounded like kind of a good idea, even if Willow was sad about it. “Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said softly. She stopped walking and Buffy took a few steps before realizing she was alone, turning back in surprise. “What’s going on with you and Spike?”

Buffy froze. “I’m not sure,” she replied cautiously.

Willow contemplated her. “You like him.”

Buffy opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn’t get the words out. Every time she tried, she pictured that William-smile he’d given her when they’d woken up together and felt like the worst kind of person. Her friends were never going to understand. Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah.”

Willow nodded. “I thought so.”

“It’s not…” Buffy struggled to explain her seemingly abrupt change of heart. “I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“Well, everyone’s thinking it.”

“Buffy,” Willow sighed. “I’m not going to pretend I get it, because I really, _really_ don’t, but I do get liking someone you didn’t expect to.”

Buffy was startled. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Willow wouldn’t meet Buffy’s eyes, looking down as she scraped her shoe against the concrete.

“Okay,” Buffy said, perplexed, when it appeared Willow wasn’t going to elaborate. They both started walking again.

“It was horrible,” Willow said softly a minute later. “We all thought he’d killed you, Buffy. Just…give us some time to wrap our heads around it. Giles didn’t give up, you know. The Council called a lot to ask him about whether or not they should be looking for a new Slayer-” Buffy smiled at that. “But he kept hoping maybe we’d figure out what happened to you. We did a locater spell but it just showed that you were on campus and we didn’t…we thought it was picking up like, some Buffy-essence or something. We didn’t even think of you being underground. Giles even called Angel to see if he could help us find Spike.”

“He did?” Buffy was surprised. She would have thought Angel—with his demon contacts and preternatural senses—might have at least been able to guess that something strange had happened to her and Spike. Yet Giles hadn’t said a word about a possible rescue attempt. “What did Angel say?”

Willow shrugged. “Nothing helpful, according to Giles. I guess he got all mad about Spike having the Gem and wanted to know why we hadn’t told him. He’s in Tibet now, I think.”

“Tibet?” Buffy was completely thrown. “He just moved to L.A.”

“Um, he’s like… on a retreat or something? To come to terms with your, uh, death.”

“What?” Buffy knew her voice was a little shrill, but she couldn’t help herself. “I’m not dead!” 

“I guess he thought you were.”

Buffy really wanted to punch something. Here she was, thinking the only thing keeping her and Angel apart was his stupid soul-curse, but at the first sign of her possible demise he just gave up and went on vacation? “Idiot,” Buffy muttered. Her mutinous brain was gleefully pointing out that Spike hadn’t given up on her once, even when he could have saved himself by leaving her at the mercy of The Initiative. And he was supposed to be the _evil_ vampire.

“What?” Willow asked.

“Uh, I said: Tibet. Wow, that’s far.”

“Yeah,” Willow agreed. She stopped again. “Well, this is where I get off.” She gestured in the direction of the college. “Be careful, Buffy.”

“I will be,” Buffy said absently. Her feet automatically took her home and although she was alert for any little noise that might signal the commandos, she made it without incident. She locked the front door behind her and listened for a moment, but the house was silent. Apparently she’d beaten Spike back. She shook off the uneasy feeling curling in her belly. He’d asked her to trust him, so she would until he gave her a reason not to.

Buffy sighed and climbed the stairs, dreaming of her pajamas. She changed her clothes and stared at her bed for a minute before heading back down to see if there might be ice cream in the fridge. It wasn’t like she’d be able to sleep before Spike got home.


	14. You're No Different

Spike trudged up the porch steps of the Slayer’s house, his hands deep in his pockets and clenched into fists. Rudy had been worse than useless, refusing to give Spike an answer until he’d “consulted” with some of his demon cohorts. The vampire had considered killing everyone in that dank warehouse, but he figured having to take orders from some slime-antlered, cheap-suit-wearing demon was a worse punishment than he could possibly come up with. Besides, the henchman guarding the door had barely put up a fight, so it probably wouldn’t have been much fun.

The door opened as he was reaching for the knob, and Buffy was standing on the other side. “Hey,” she gave him a small smile. “You made it.”

Spike blinked at her. “Uh, yeah.” He shifted slightly as they stood in the doorway.

“Are you coming in?”

Spike was staring at her toenails. He didn’t remember them being bright pink before. “Wasn’t sure you’d still be up.”

Buffy shrugged and he followed her into the living room, inhaling her scent. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, swinging in time with her hips as she walked. Even wearing a pair of ridiculous cartoon-printed pajama bottoms and a tank top, she was beautiful. Rudy better come through for him, or Sunnydale was going to be home to one less Chaos demon.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Buffy said, picking up an empty carton of ice cream and licking the melted remains off a spoon. “Wasn’t sure when you’d be back.” Spike lost track of the conversation right around the time her tongue made an appearance. He stood there, staring like a soppy berk, and she rewarded him with a smile that made it seem like she was happy to see him. “How was your night? Anything exciting?”

Spike finally shook himself out of his stupor and took a step towards her, eyes fixed on her mouth. “Not really,” he said.

“What…” Buffy looked uncertain for a moment. “Where’d you go?”

Spike paused in his quest to see if her lips still tasted like the ice cream she’d been eating. He shrugged and reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Nowhere important.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“Nothing to tell just yet.”

She started chewing on her delectable lower lip. “It wasn’t bad though, right?”

Spike frowned, uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking. He knew what she was thinking, and while he wanted to reassure her that no, of course he hadn’t been doing anything bad, he really wasn’t sure what she’d think of his activities. “Said I was going to help you, Slayer. Didn’t say I was going to turn into the great poof.”

Buffy looked hurt. “That’s not-” She sighed. “I know you’re not.”

Spike scowled and crossed his arms. “Not ever going to be him, Slayer.”

“Spike-”

“I should go.”

“Go where?” Buffy sounded bewildered. “I thought you were staying here?”

Part of him had thought that to, but he’d ruined everything by bringing up Captain Forehead. Now that’s all she’d be thinking about. He was surprised Peaches hadn’t shown up already. “Well, I’m not.”

“Oh.” Buffy’s voice was small and sad, which completely threw him. What the hell did she have to be sad about?

“Did you want me to?” Spike asked, confused.

Buffy blushed, her face turning a shade of pink that nearly matched her toes and tugged nervously on the end of her ponytail. She’d done her fingernails in the same hue, he noticed. “If you don’t want to that’s okay. I mean, I just thought…nevermind.” She cast her eyes down to the floor, her arms wrapping around her middle. “I’ll just…I should clean up.” She quickly grabbed the ice cream carton and nearly ran from the room, but not before he caught her wounded expression.

Spike mentally reviewed everything that just happened, trying to figure out what he’d missed, when it hit him. He was an utter wanker. He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and shook off his coat, draping it over the banister as he tracked her down. Hadn’t he killed that idiot for doing this to her? “Slayer,” he started as she came out of the kitchen.

She lifted a hand to interrupt him but he just used it to pull her closer. “Sorry, kitten,” he murmured into her hair. She was stiff in his arms as he held her. “Just been a long, frustrating night. How did it go with the Watcher?”

“Not great,” Buffy’s voice was muffled against his shoulder and he felt her relax slightly. “He’s got some Council people coming to help, even though last time they were in town they tried to kill me.”

“What?” Spike’s arms tightened around her. “Tell him to make them go away,” he growled.

Buffy sighed. “I can’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

“He said I had to trust him, if he was going to believe that I was right about you,” Buffy said quietly.

Spike rested his cheek against her soft hair. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” There was a long, drawn-out silence. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer her. He hadn’t killed anyone tonight (except for that stupid fledge guarding Rudy’s place) but where was the line? Was a demon okay? Was Willy? How about that Riley git who’d hurt her worse than that campus Lothario ever had? Spike had no clue what to say. “Uh, yeah, Slayer.”

“Can you please sound a little more convincing?”

Spike huffed an impatient breath into her hair. “I’m doing my best here, Slayer.”

“I know,” Buffy sighed again, pulling back so she was peering up at his face. “You aren’t actually going to leave, are you?”

He tilted his head at her. “You sure you want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

“All right then. Now, what’s the Watcher’s plan?”

Buffy shrugged. “Other than bringing in his Council friends? No clue. I think some of them are witches or something. He had us looking for useful spells all night.”

“That white-coat bitch isn’t good with magic,” Spike mused, tugging the end of Buffy’s ponytail. He cupped the back of her skull and slid his fingers up until he found the gadget binding her hair. Slowly, he eased it out so her golden locks could settle down around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, her expression pleased. “That’s what I said.”

Spike smirked. “That’s my girl.”

Buffy slid her hands around his neck. “Bedtime?”

There was something he knew how to answer. “Yeah.”

Buffy pulled out of his arms and grasped one of his hands. He followed her upstairs, thinking this was possible the closest he would ever get to paradise. He kicked his boots off in her frilly bedroom and settled back onto her bed while she fussed about in the bathroom. Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of them together that permeated her sheets.

His eyes were still closed when he heard her come into the room. He felt the bed dip as she settled on one side of it and smiled when something started tickling his face. He opened his eyes to find her looming over him, her faces inches from his own and her hair curtaining them from the world. “Hey,” she said, sounding suddenly shy. It made him want to thoroughly debauch her.

“’Lo, Slayer.”

“Buffy.”

“What?” 

“I like the way you say my name,” she said, stretching out on top of him and propping herself up with her elbows on either side of his head.

If his heart worked it would have stuttered in his chest just then. “Buffy,” he agreed. She nodded in satisfaction and sat up. He frowned until she started tugging on the hem of his shirt and his expression changed to a more genial leer. He helped her strip his shirt off and thoroughly enjoyed the happy sigh she let out as she ran her hands down his chest. He reached up but she caught his hands, forcing them back to the bed.

“Stay,” she said mock-sternly.

Spike caught his tongue in his teeth, grinning. “Bossy bint.”

“Hush,” Buffy said, struggling to hide her smile. Spike folded his hands behind his head and waited, wondering if she’d managed to find some feathers while he was away.

Instead, he watched his Slayer bend over and flip all of her hair forward so the ends of it were trailing over his abdomen. Spike couldn’t suppress his groan of appreciation as she slowly moved up, dragging her locks, gleaming and golden in the dim bedroom light, over his nipples and throat before heading back down. Her hands followed the same route with a feather-light touch. His skin was lighting up with sensation.

“Good?” she whispered.

Spike could feel his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans. “Yeah, kitten,” he answered hoarsely. He reached out to brush her hair to one side, wanting to see her face, but she swatted at his hand again.

“Not yet.” She bent to lay a line of kisses along his sternum, her hair trailing down the sides of his torso. Spike let his eyes slide shut, enjoying the exquisite torture of her tentative exploration. He was aching to touch her. “Is it just my hair, or will anyone’s do?”

Spike cracked open one eye, trying to get his brain to understand her question. He took a quick breath as she licked one of his nipples. “Christ,” he hissed. “Just you, Buffy.”

 She let out a pleased noise and licked his other nipple before blowing a breath across it, making him squirm. “So you weren’t out looking for someone else tonight?”

“What?” Spike was really having trouble concentrating, not sure why she was trying to have a conversation when there were much more interesting things happening. “Why the hell would I do that?” Buffy started moving down again, her fingers dipping down below the waistband of his jeans as he clutched the blankets tightly in his hands. “Can I touch now?”

“Shh,” Buffy murmured against his lower belly, her fingers undoing to button of his jeans. “Where were you tonight, Spike?” He bucked up against her hand as she trailed her fingers over his trapped cock before reaching to undo the zipper. She was driving him mad, drawing things out like this.

“Just…” he trailed off, both eyes opening as he glared at her suspiciously. “Hey, wait a minute.”

He twisted a hand into her hair and tugged her head up until he could see her guilty expression.

“What?” She was trying for innocent but it was too late.

“I told you nothing happened tonight, but you don’t believe me, do you?”

Buffy opened her mouth and closed it again. “Spike,” she started hesitantly.

He crossed his arms and scowled at her. “So that’s what this is. Do whatever it takes to get some information from the vampire?”

“No!” Buffy sat up fully, her folded legs on either side of his hips and her hands resting on his bare chest. “I just…I have to be sure, Spike.”

“Sure about what?”

“That you weren’t out there…”

“Having a snack?”

“Yes, okay?” Buffy threw up her hands. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before!”

“Jesus, this is about that pathetic Don Juan again, isn’t it?”

“His name was Parker!”

Spike sighed gustily. “I really don’t care.”

“Well, I do!”

“Why?” Spike was genuinely mystified as to why she kept bringing up that idiot. Frankly, the vampire felt he deserved some kind of award for saving all those gormless chits from the boy’s fumbling attempts at lovemaking.

“Because it was bad,” Buffy said, sounding exasperated. “And I’m responsible!”

Spike screwed up his face. “How the hell are you responsible?”

“I’m supposed to protect people,” Buffy huffed. “Hello, Slayer here? Ringing any bells?”

Spike snorted. “He didn’t deserve your protection. He hurt you, kitten.” He reached up and slid his hand through her hair in an attempt to end this ridiculous argument and she turned her cheek to nuzzle his palm for a moment before sighing.

“I don’t get to decide that, Spike. And neither do you. He was human.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “And I’m a vampire. Top of the food chain, remember? He would have gotten picked off eventually anyway, he really wasn’t very bright.”

Buffy covered her face with one hand and let out a frustrated noise. “Just…can you not kill any more people, please?”

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to have to dust you!” Her eyes were getting suspiciously shiny.

Spike was silent for a long minute, looking up at her. “Yeah, alright,” he finally said.

“Thank you,” Buffy sounded relieved. “You didn’t kill anyone tonight, did you?”

“Does a demon count?” Spike hedged, trying to get as much information as he could about this arbitrary line in the sand she was drawing. She killed things all the time but for some reason that didn’t seem to factor in here.

“No, that’s fine.” Buffy paused. “Wait, was it evil?”

Spike shrugged. “Didn’t go through his pockets looking for an Evil Union membership, but probably.”

Buffy pressed her lips together and he could tell she was fighting a smile. “Okay.”

He relaxed again. “Yeah?” Spike tugged her down towards him hopefully. “Back to this, then?” This time Buffy did smile just before he kissed her. He wrapped an arm around her waist as he tangled a hand in her soft hair and started to roll them both over. Unfortunately, they ran out of bed before they finished rolling.

“Spike!” Buffy squeaked out as she landed underneath him. Spike kissed her to silence her objection, undeterred by their sudden relocation to the floor. He helped her hook a leg over his hip and ground his erection against her thigh, making her gasp and throw her head back against the carpet. He growled and nipped at the thin skin of her throat before working on divesting them both of their clothes as swiftly as possible.

It had been so much easier down in The Initiative, when it was just the two of them. He hated that she was letting doubt creep in. He couldn’t protect her if she didn’t trust him and he would dust before letting anyone harm a single hair on her head, even if they were human.

Spike made short work of her tank top, nearly tearing it off in his haste before urging her to lift her hips up so he could yank her pajama bottoms off her legs. Buffy was panting underneath him as she twisted her fingers into his short hair. “Spike,” she gasped as he uncovered her delectable skin. He let out a satisfied sigh that ended abruptly as he caught sight of her bare pussy. Buffy’s eyes went wide. “What?” She sounded nervous.

The vampire trailed his fingers over the silky skin between her legs. “What’s this?”

Buffy bit her lip anxiously. “You don’t like it?”

Spike carefully eased the zipper down on his jeans and kicked them off his legs before he prowled back over his Slayer. She watched, her eyes fixed on his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs as he bent to kiss her. “It’s fine, pet, just…why’d you do it?”

“I thought…” Buffy trailed off, seemingly puzzled. “I thought you’d like it.”

“Hm,” Spike bent to capture one of her nipples between blunt teeth as his fingers moved down to part her wet folds, seeking her clit. “Like you any way, Buffy, but…” He caressed her shaved mound. “Especially like running my fingers through your hair.”

Buffy’s entire body turned a lovely shade of pink. “Oh,” she gasped as his fingers sank into her wet heat. He groaned with her as she bucked up against his hand. “Want…ugh, need you inside me.”

Spike had turned his attention to her other breast, and lifted his head to grin at her. “I want that too, kitten. Be patient.” He knelt between her legs, his fingers still working her open. She was so tight, and her warmth made his cock twitch in anticipation. Buffy squirmed against the floor, her mouth partly open as she panted. She was gorgeous like that. He almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure it was real. He pressed his thumb against her clit and felt her buck under his hands as she gasped, fingers tightening in his hair.

“Spike!” She sounded impatient, and he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer. He ground his thumb down and worked another finger inside of her, loving the noises she made for him. Buffy was lifting her hips in time with the rhythm of his hand and then her body shuddered as she came apart under him. Her eyes slid shut and she went silent for a moment, like she’d forgotten how to breathe. He could watch her like this for the rest of his unlife.

When her eyes finally opened, drowsy with the aftermath of her climax, Spike pulled her up and carefully removed his fingers. She obediently turned her back to him at his urging.

“What are you…” Her voice was soft and breathy.

“You’ll like it, love. Trust me.”

She let out a soft sigh and allowed him position her over his lap, her back against his chest and her hair cascading between them. He leaned back a little, aligning their hips as he grasped his cock and helped her lower herself onto him. She groaned as she impaled herself, sinking down so slowly it became a blissful agony. “Oh,” she breathed, lifting herself experimentally before taking him all the way inside of her. She was so slick and tight around him he found himself already fighting the urge to come.

Spike felt himself breathing, his nose buried in her hair, as she settled into a rhythm and he started moving with her. She kept it slow and steady, letting him guide her, until he realized what was happening and stilled his hips. “Come on, Slayer,” he whispered in her ear, wrapping a large chunk of her hair around his fist and tugging her head back against his shoulder. “Let go for me.”

“What? I’m not-”

“Can’t break me,” he murmured, gently biting her earlobe with before soothing it with his tongue. He pulled a little more on her hair, making her wince slightly. “But I wish you’d try.”

“Spike,” she grumbled in irritation, trying to pull away from his tight grip.

“Show me what you’ve got, love.” He licked a path up her throat before bringing out the barest hint of fang. “Come on, let it out.” He scraped one sharp tooth across her jugular, leaving a thin pink line behind it. Buffy bucked against him, her entire body tensing and her pussy clamping down around his cock like a vice. “Oh, fuck!” he hissed, his full demon face emerging as she strangled his cock. He yanked her head back further.

“Spike!” Buffy’s fingers were digging into his bicep, his name coming out as more of a moan. Spike got himself back under control, shaking off his vampire face and covering her lips with his as she squirmed in his arms. One of her hands was gripping his ass as she started moving again, lifting herself off his cock and slamming back down with an abandon she hadn’t possessed the moment before. “Oh, god,” she gasped against his mouth.

“That’s it,” Spike rumbled, loosening his grip on her hair so she could straighten up fully. She was making the most delicious noises as she pleasured herself on his cock, her hair shimmying with every movement. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned against the nape of her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair. His hands were on her hips, urging her to move faster, harder, until he heard her breath hitch and her inner walls clamped down around his cock again. She stilled for a moment, his cock seated deep inside of her as she orgasmed with her head tipped back against his shoulder.

She was saying his name as she began to move again and he decided it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. His vision blurred for a moment as he finally climaxed, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her hips before he wrapped his arms around her to keep her close. Spike nuzzled his face into her shining hair, listening to her catch her breath as he held her. No one was ever going to hurt his Slayer again. He’d make sure of it.

"Whoa," Buffy said finally, sagging back against him.

Spike smirked against the nape of her neck. “Again?”


	15. Over the Mountain

Buffy woke up slowly, her brain a pleasant fog of remembered sensation. She stretched her limbs and wondered why she was awake before a distant knocking made her jerk straight up. She looked around, her eyes wide. They were still on the floor, along with most of the blankets and sheets that had been on the bed. The early morning sun was filtering through the blinds of her room. Spike let out an annoyed sound as Buffy tried to untangle herself. The vampire rolled over and flung his arm across her, dragging her back down.

“Spike!” Buffy pushed him away and heard something that made her blood run cold: a key in the lock downstairs. “Spike,” she hissed, punching his arm. “Wake up!”

“Ow!” the vampire muttered, cracking open one eye. “Need to work on your morning afters, kitten.” He covered his head with one of the blankets.

“Someone’s here!”

“What?” Spike’s voice was muffled.

“Buffy?” a voice called from downstairs.

Buffy could feel the blood draining from her face. “It’s Giles.”

The blanket Spike was under rustled. “So?”

“You have to go.”

The vampire finally emerged, his hair sticking up every which way. “What the bloody hell for?”

“They can’t find you up here!”

“Why the hell would they come up here?”

Buffy’s heart was pounding in her ears. “Because-” The staircase creaked.

“Nosy fucking sods.”

Buffy scrambled for her closet as Spike swore some more and nearly fell over trying to get into his jeans. Buffy jammed one arm into her robe and couldn’t find the other sleeve, spinning in frantic circles.

“Buffy?” Giles’ voice was much, much closer.

“Jesus Christ,” Spike muttered, reaching for her and untangling the fabric wrapped around Buffy’s torso. “Here, Slayer.” Buffy got her arm in the second sleeve, shooting Spike a look that was part gratitude, part exasperation.

“Go!” She shoved him toward the window.

Spike grabbed his boots and stood there for a moment, scratching his head. “Have you seen my-”

There was a knock on the bedroom door. Buffy flung the window open and practically threw the vampire out, thanking her lucky stars he had that stupid Gem. She whirled around, tying her robe, and spotted his shirt on the lamp beside her bed. She snatched it up and tossed it out the window before slamming it shut. Spike was muttering something she probably didn’t want to hear out on the roof.

Buffy headed toward the door, frantically smoothing her hair (a lost cause, she could tell) when the knob turned.

“Buffy?” Giles’ voice was quiet.

“Hang on,” Buffy managed. “I’ll be right out.” She held her breath as the knob stilled.

“All right, we’ll be downstairs.”

She heard his footsteps retreating and heaved a sigh of relief, moving to the window and opening it again. Spike was sitting on the roof, squinting into the bright sunshine with a deep scowl on his face. “Sorry,” Buffy offered sheepishly. The vampire pulled his shirt over his head and glared at her. “I just…” Buffy took a breath. “I haven’t said anything to them yet.”

Spike rubbed a hand over his face. “I guessed that.”

Buffy chewed on her lower lip for a minute. “Hey,” she finally said softly. Spike turned to look at her and she reached out to grasp his shirt, tugging him closer. She pressed a firm kiss to his lips before pulling back. “Morning.”

One side of Spike’s mouth quirked up. “Still needs work, Slayer.”

She smiled. “I’ll try harder.”

The vampire made a shooing motion at her. “Off you go then. See you in a bit.”

Buffy drew her head in and closed the window, straightening her robe and tying a double knot in the sash before squaring her shoulders and heading downstairs.

“Oh,” Buffy came to a halt, surprised. She’d forgotten Giles said ‘we’. Willow, Giles and a blonde girl Buffy didn’t know looked up expectantly as she entered the living room. “Um, hey.” Buffy dearly wished she’d taken the time to find some underwear.

“Sorry to wake you so early,” Giles said, sounding anything but sorry. “Something’s happened.”

“Is everyone okay?” Buffy asked in alarm.

“Oh, no, everyone’s fine. Well-” Giles paused. “To a point, but I’ll get to that in a moment. Have you not been sleeping well?”

Buffy reached up to touch her hair again. It was definitely a disaster. “Um, not really.”

Giles looked at her sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“No,” Buffy protested, glancing nervously at Willow and the other girl. “It’s fine, really.”

“Oh!” Willow started suddenly. “Buffy, this is Tara. Tara, Buffy.” Willow smiled brightly, her eyes darting between the two of them.

“Hi,” Buffy lifted a hand and smiled.

“N-nice to meet you.” Tara said, her voice soft. Her hair was swinging in front of one of her eyes like she wasn’t sure she wanted to look directly at Buffy. Not that Buffy could blame her. She must look like a complete mess.

“Where’s Spike?” Giles inquired.

“Not here!” Buffy trilled nervously, hoping she looked less guilty than she felt. “Why do you ask?”

Giles looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Because his coat’s here.” Her Watcher indicated the leather duster draped over the banister.

Buffy’s mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible explanation just as there was another knock at the door. She pulled her robe tighter around her and prayed it wasn’t anyone else she knew. She couldn’t keep this up much longer. The door opened before anyone could reach it and Spike came sauntering in. Buffy’s jaw dropped. His hair was still a mess and his shirt was one giant wrinkle, but she was probably the only one who noticed those things. At least he was dressed, she thought with envy.

“Spike,” she managed to say without stuttering.

“Morning all.” The vampire stopped in the foyer and rocked back on his heels. “Say, Slayer, have you seen my…ah, there it is.” Spike picked up his duster, looking satisfied. “Didn’t mean to leave it.”

“Uh,” Buffy said, hoping she appeared calmer than she felt. “That’s okay?”

“So, any news?” Spike looked expectantly at Giles, who frowned at the vampire.

“I take it you’re still on board, Spike?”

Spike lifted one eyebrow. “Course, Watcher. Want to take those bastards down.”

Giles looked less than convinced. “I do have some news, actually, which is why we’ve come by.”

“I noticed,” Buffy said wryly. “Are the phones broken?”

Giles looked slightly abashed. “Ah, no. It’s a rather long story. Shall I make tea?”

Buffy sighed. “I woke up ten seconds ago, Giles. I need a shower before I’m ready to be listening Buffy.”

Her Watcher nodded. “Of course, I’m sorry to come so early, but it’s important. I’ll make some tea.”

“And coffee?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Giles shook his head in disapproval. “And coffee,” he sighed.

Buffy shot him a grin. “Thanks. Back in a flash.” She hurried back up the stairs, trying to keep her robe from flapping around too much.

“Where’ve you been staying?” She heard Giles inquire semi-politely. Buffy paused at the top of the stairs, listening.

“What? Oh, uh, crypt. You know, vampire-friendly and all,” Spike replied. Buffy let out a relieved breath and headed into the bathroom.

She rushed through her shower, leaving her hair for later and heading across the hall to her bedroom in a towel. She could hear Willow’s voice downstairs. Buffy made a face as she caught sight of her hair in the mirror and picked up her brush, trying to figure out how to tackle the vampire-induced mess. A cool hand wrapping around hers on the brush handle made her yelp and spin around, her heart pounding.

“Spike! What are you doing?”

The vampire grinned lasciviously at her and plucked the brush from her hand. “Having a smoke.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and clutched her towel a little closer as his gaze strayed down her body. “No.”

Spike looked disappointed. “Could make it quick?”

“Giles is downstairs!”

The vampire sighed heavily. “Fine.” He lifted the brush and turned her around to face the mirror. It was strange to see herself alone in the reflection. He began working the knots out of her hair, starting with the ends and humming something under his breath that she didn’t recognize. Buffy’s eyes drifted closed as he worked, the noise of the brush sliding through her hair soothing her. She could feel his fingers stroking through her hair and down over her bare shoulders, his thumb tracing her collarbone. Buffy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so relaxed.

The brush disappeared and both his hands were in her hair, fingers kneading her scalp and gliding down, settling her hair around her shoulders. His hands continued down her bare back, moving around and cupping her breasts, his nimble fingers working her nipples into stiff peaks. Buffy’s eyes popped open as she realized her towel had gone missing. “Spike!” She batted his hands away.

He widened his eyes innocently. “What?”

“Not now,” she said firmly, turning around and spotting her towel next to him on the floor.

Spike settled his hands on her hips and pulled her close, his fingers stroking her bare bottom. “You sure?” 

Buffy took a deep, fortifying breath, reminding herself that Giles and Willow were downstairs so that they could plot against an evil government entity. She gently pushed Spike back. “Later,” she promised, feeling her body twinge in disappointment at the separation.

The vampire sighed again. “Well, now I actually need a smoke. See you downstairs.” He disappeared out the window and Buffy stared after him for a moment. She smiled as she got dressed. He was definitely a strange sort of vampire, but she could live with that.

***

Buffy finally made it back to the kitchen and gratefully poured herself a cup of coffee. Spike was lounging against the counter while Giles shot suspicious glances at him. Willow and Tara had mugs of something, both of them huddled in the corner by the stove. Buffy met Willow’s eyes and was surprised to see her friend blush slightly.

“Should we procure you some blood, Spike?” Giles asked pointedly as Buffy added another heap of sugar to her coffee to make it drinkable. The least Giles could have done before waking her up so early was to stop and get her a mocha or something.

Spike shrugged. “Gem takes the edge off, Watcher, and I’m not really longing for the taste of swine.”

“Perhaps just to have in reserve.” Giles gave Buffy a pointed look before continuing. “Now, apparently something strange has happened at the Sunspot Motel. Some of the people I’d contacted yesterday arrived and were checking into the motel early this morning just as a disturbance occurred. Robson described the commandos just as you did Buffy, down to their electric taser-guns. He claims they battered down a motel room door and hauled someone away. One of the soldiers told the motel clerk they were serving a federal warrant but Robson recognized who they took.”

Buffy took another sip of coffee and absorbed this information. “Was it some kind of demon?”

Giles shook his head. “It was Ethan. Ethan Rayne”

Buffy stilled, a phantom twinge of pain on her back reminding her of the last time she’d had to deal with Giles’ old friend. “You’re kidding. What’s he doing here?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” Giles shrugged. “But the better question is: what would The Initiative want with him?” 

“Maybe he’s a vampire now?”

“Oh, then you could slay him!” Willow said excitedly before glancing at Spike and taking her smile down a couple notches. “Uh, because he’s super bad. And a jerk.”

Spike scowled. “Hey, I’m ba-”

“I sincerely doubt Ethan’s been turned. The damn man has nine lives in addition to being a powerful sorcerer.” Giles interrupted. “You said The Initiative wasn’t aware of magic?”

“Well, I don’t think they believed in it, even if they’d heard of it,” Buffy replied.

“Uh, I might know what happened, mate.”

Everyone turned to look at the vampire. Buffy furrowed her brow. “What?”

Spike lifted one shoulder. “Overheard the soldiers talking just before we escaped, Slayer. Mentioned adjusting their sensors to pick up magic-users. Called ‘em another “class” of something.”

“Good lord.” Giles took his glasses off and gave them a vigorous polish. He looked sternly at Tara and Willow. “No more casting on campus, you understand? In fact, perhaps you shouldn’t do any magic at all until we figure this out.”

“Is that going to mess up our plans?” Buffy asked in dismay.

Giles was staring across the kitchen, his eyes unfocused and his mug of tea forgotten in his hand. “I’m not sure, Buffy. I need to get in touch with the coven again.” He glanced at the clock. “It’s the middle of the afternoon there, so hopefully I’ll reach someone. They were going to send a couple of witches to assist us, but this changes things.”

“Mr. Giles?” Tara’s voice was so quiet Buffy had to strain to hear it.

“Yes?” Giles answered distractedly. He patted his pockets and withdrew a small notebook that he immediately started scribbling in. “Can I use the phone, Buffy?”

“Sure, but you’re explaining the long distance charges to my mom.”

Giles rolled his eyes and Buffy lifted both eyebrows to indicate she was completely serious. No way was she getting in trouble for running up the phone bill. She was going to have enough explaining about Spike to do when her mom got back.

“Fine, I’ll talk to Joyce when she returns. Can we focus here please?”

“Hey!” Willow sounded irritated. “Tara had a question.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, what was it?” Giles turned to the quiet blonde while Willow glared at him. Buffy didn’t think she’d ever seen Willow be so forceful with Giles before.

“Um,” Tara said in that same hesitant voice. “Do you think the s-sensors are picking up spells being done, or the innate magic of the practitioner?”

Giles’ brow furrowed. “Oh dear, I’m afraid that’s an excellent question that I don’t know the answer to.” He turned to Spike expectantly.

The vampire looked startled. “Don’t look at me. Already told you everything I heard.”

Buffy glanced over at Willow in concern, noticing her friend was huddled even closer to Tara now, both looking exceedingly nervous.

“Perhaps they should stay here with you, Buffy.” Giles turned to her.

Buffy felt her heart sink and tried not to look in Spike’s direction. “Here?”

“Yes, I believe the spell we cast before should keep them away.” Giles frowned. “Unless it draws their attention? This is a conundrum.”

“I think we should be okay here,” Willow said thoughtfully. “The spell was to keep people from noticing the house if they wanted to do harm, so even if their sensors pick up our magic those guys shouldn’t be able to see us. Maybe they’ll think it’s an equipment glitch or something, especially if they’re new to magic.”

“That seems logical,” Giles agreed. “We’ll go with it until proven otherwise. Buffy?”

“Hm?” Buffy hadn’t been able to keep her eyes from wandering over to Spike. He was watching her from under lowered lashes, making her insides tingle.

Giles lifted his eyebrows. “Is that acceptable? Tara and Willow will stay here with you for the time being.” His eyes softened. “Perhaps they might be able to come up with something to help you sleep a bit better.”

Buffy felt her face flush. “Um, yes, that’d be great. Of course they can stay.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” Giles made another notation on his notepad, eerily reminding Buffy of Professor Walsh. She suddenly felt a little unsteady on her feet. 

“Slayer,” Spike rumbled. Her head snapped up from Giles’ hands, and she met the vampire’s eyes. “Breathe,” he said softly. Everyone in the kitchen turned to her in concern.

Buffy held up a hand and took a long, slow breath. “I’m fine.” Willow looked at Spike curiously as Tara gave Buffy an encouraging smile. Buffy smiled back, deciding she liked Willow’s new friend. 

Giles cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I’m going to make some calls and then perhaps we’ll go wake up the others.”

“Are they still at the motel?” Buffy asked.

“Oh no,” Giles shook his head. “We didn’t know why the soldiers had taken Ethan, so they thought it best to come directly to my house.” He smiled wryly. “At four in the morning.”

Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Ah, that’s why I got the wake up call.”

“I did wait until after the sun was up.” Giles pointed out.

“Gee, thanks,” Buffy snorted. Giles picked up the phone and dialed a long series of numbers as Willow and Tara discussed something in quiet voices. Buffy’s eyes strayed back to Spike. She wished for a moment that they were alone again, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen for the foreseeable future. 

***

Giles had spent most of the morning on the phone and the remainder of it shuttling Tara and Willow back and forth between the dorms, his apartment and Buffy’s house, gathering the things they needed. Spike had disappeared halfway through the day, citing another meeting. Buffy wasn’t sure who or what he was meeting with, but he’d refused to elaborate, giving a vague return time of “later” before he left. Buffy managed to hold her tongue as the door closed behind him, reminding herself of the promise he’d made last night.

Giles turned up almost immediately after the vampire had gone with a carload of books from his apartment and another new face. Willow took a box into the dining room while the newcomer hung in the hallway, looking nervous and out of place. Giles gestured at the woman as Buffy came back downstairs after setting her room to rights. “Buffy, this is Lydia. Lydia, Buffy.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Lydia said, her accent even more British-y than Giles’.

“Uh, yeah,” Buffy shook the woman’s hand uncomfortably. Definitely with the Council. Buffy wondered if they had some kind of tweed initiation during Watcher school.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Lydia continued, seemingly flustered. “I mean, obviously I have through the Council because you’re the Slayer, but I meant Mr. Giles has said some things…good things of course! And may I just say it’s so nice to find you’re not dead.”

Buffy gaped at her for a moment, shooting a confused look at Giles. “Um, thanks?”

Giles gestured toward the dining room. “We’ll be setting up in here, Lydia.”

“Excellent, I’ll get started right away.” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes casting around the foyer. “Ah, shall William the Bloody be joining us?”

Buffy’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “I doubt it. He’s not really into doing research.” She looked at Giles again, this time questioningly. Who was this lady?

Giles pressed his lips together. “I’m sure he’ll turn up later, Lydia. Why don’t you assist Willow with the books?”

“Yes, of course.” Lydia flushed and went into the dining room while Buffy dragged her Watcher in the opposite direction.

“I thought you said you were bringing _help_?” Buffy accused. “She wouldn’t last ten seconds against The Initiative.”

Giles sighed. “I know, but she and Henry are close and once she found out Spike was assisting us there was no dissuading her. She really is a very intelligent woman. I’ve no doubt she’ll be useful prior to the actual infiltration.”

“Okay, but what does Spike have to do with anything?”

Giles took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s…studied him.”

“Spike?” Buffy furrowed her brow. “Why?”

“We do tend to keep track of the older vampires, Buffy, you know that.”

“Sure.” Buffy glanced back toward the dining room. “But she seems kinda, um, excited about him.”

“Yes, well, it’s her life’s work. Can we discuss what we have so far now, please?”

Buffy sent one last suspicious glance toward the dining room before giving her full attention to her Watcher. “What did the coven say?”

“They’re sending a couple of experienced witches who should arrive the day after tomorrow. I told them to come directly here. Robson and Henry are at my apartment determining what we need, Xander’s helping them with the weapons procurement, and Anya is there because I’m really not sure where her strengths lie.”

Buffy smiled. “Plus you figured Xander could wrangle her better than the rest of us.”

“Well, yes.” Giles looked guilty for a moment. “She really is a lovely girl.”

Buffy patted his arm. “I won’t tell.”

“Where is Spike, by the way? I hadn’t thought he’d want to leave the sanctuary of your house with those soldiers still out and about.”

“Don’t know.” Buffy shrugged. “He didn’t tell me.” Giles narrowed his eyes at her but didn’t say anything. Buffy sighed. “You heard him this morning Giles; he said he didn’t need a lot of blood with the Gem.”

“I see.” Giles was polishing his glasses again. Buffy suspected it was his equivalent of a deep breath. “Well, I’ve picked some up anyways. Perhaps you could tell him when he gets back.” Giles repositioned the glasses on his nose. “We’d best get to work.” Buffy reluctantly followed her Watcher into the dining room to read until her eyes crossed.

***

Spike rummaged through the boot of his car, grumbling under his breath. Most of his stuff was still in the room he’d taken over on Buffy’s college campus, but he was sure he’d had another change of clothes in the car. His shirt was a complete loss. Chaos demon slime was a bitch to get out, and the multitude of holes in the fabric cinched its demise.

That wanker Rudy had put him off all night, talking in circles until Spike had finally lost his patience. They were demons for Christ’s sake! There was no need to talk everything to bloody death. He hadn’t killed two Slayers by chatting them up.

Spike paused, something flitting on the edges of his senses that caught his attention. He straightened up and looked around the junkyard he’d hidden the car in, taking a deep breath. He could smell motor oil and mold along with the faint hint of a dog somewhere nearby. That was probably what was pinging on his radar.

He wondered what side of the Slayer’s line dogs fell on. They weren’t humans, but they weren’t demons (usually) so he’d decided to err on the side of caution earlier and hadn’t done more than scare the thing off with a flash of fang.

Spike returned to his search, finally emerging triumphant with another black t-shirt that smelled of grease but was at least intact. He couldn’t go back to Buffy looking like he’d gotten into a fight. She’d get suspicious and he still had nothing to show for all his negotiations.

He dumped his coat into the open boot and tugged off the tattered remains of one shirt before pulling on the other, eager to get back to his Slayer. God, she’d been amazing the night before when she’d finally stopped holding back. He wanted to savor every minute they had together. Spike picked up his duster and slammed the lid shut, the echo reverberating through the junkyard. He almost missed the tiny, whistling noise, but he definitely didn’t miss the sudden sting in his upper back.

“Fuck!” Spike snarled and crouched down, cautiously checking his surroundings. There were too many places to hide in here, which was why he’d chosen it in the first place, of course. He tucked his jacket into the wheel well of his car for safekeeping and reached for his shoulder, trying to see what had hit him. His fingers found a hole in his newest shirt, which really ticked him off, but he couldn’t find what had made it.

A sudden rustling had him on alert. He was creeping around the side of his car toward the rusted hulk of a schoolbus when he saw them: three humans lying on their bellies and painted up like extras in a Rambo movie were hiding under a nearby junker. Damn Willy and his big fat mouth. Had they found Buffy too? If those wankers had touched his Slayer there wouldn’t be anything left of them when he was done.

Spike started judging the distance to the fence before he remembered the dog. The vampire slowly moved back and concentrated, catching the scent of the animal again as a faint breeze picked up. Spike managed to slink into the shadow of a nearby metal heap before the soldier boys reacted, shimmying out from cover and starting towards him with their taser-guns drawn. Spike gave them a feral smile before he turned and ran in the opposite direction.

He could hear them cursing and trying to keep up, their equipment slowing them down just enough to give him an even more unfair advantage than his normal vampire abilities. Spike leapt over the hood of the ramshackle truck the dog was hiding under, whistling to it before he closed the remaining ten feet to the chain link fence, scaling it easily.

Spike heard the dog emerge from its hiding spot just as the soldiers reached the truck, and judging from the yelling, it was serving as an excellent distraction. Right then, time for him to get back home and make sure everything was all right. The vampire headed toward the center of town, absently rubbing his shoulder and wondering why they persisted in shooting him when they knew it wouldn’t work.

He was half a mile away when he remembered his duster. He scowled and stopped, trying to decide if he should go back. He’d check on Buffy first, and then maybe he’d scare something into picking it up for him in case the soldiers were watching the junkyard. That sorted, he continued walking, trying to stay in the shadows. He wished dawn weren’t so close. The grey morning light was bright enough to see by even for a human.

Something shiny glinted in the distance and Spike halted once more, his eyes narrowing as he switched to his demon face. Fuck, more soldiers. He could hear the radios now, too. The damn woods must be crawling with them. He sprinted toward the road. Maybe he could lose them in a more populated area. The vampire vaulted over a guardrail and saw the lights of downtown shining less than a mile away. He made his way in that direction, weaving in and out of the residential streets on the way. Still, every few minutes another group of soldiers would appear, blocking his route.

This was getting very annoying, Spike decided, leaping up onto the roof of a building and crouching down to scan the area. An SUV came rolling down a nearby alley, and he watched as a group of commandos emerged, two of them huddled around something electronic with a flashing red light. They pointed toward the building he was on and they all started heading his way. There weren’t multiple groups of soldiers, he realized angrily, just one, and they were tracking him. He searched his shoulder again, encountering nothing but smooth skin. Fuck, the Gem must have caused him to heal right over the bloody thing.

The sky was lightening in the east as he leapt to another rooftop, trying to decide what to do. He couldn’t go to Buffy’s, not with the tracker pinpointing his exact location. The Initiative boys might attribute the unknown magic source to an equipment malfunction, like Red had suggested, but the combination of the two would definitely draw unwanted attention. The soldiers were well-armed so Willy’s was out, and there’d hardly be anyone left in the bar at this time of the morning anyway. The commandos would give up at some point, Spike hoped, once they realized he couldn’t be caught. The trick would be to stay ahead of them.

Spike climbed up a fire escape and opened a rooftop door, entering a stairwell. He contemplated killing them all, but they’d probably just send more. Besides, Buffy would definitely be unhappy about that and he doubted he could convince her he thought they were demons. Spike growled as he went down into the basement and found a grate to the sewers. See if those idiots could follow him through this maze. He dropped down with a quiet splash. Buffy was fine, he assured himself, trying not to brush up against the filthy walls. She had the concealing spell, her Watcher, and two witches with her. As soon as he managed to lose these goons though, Spike would go make sure she was safe.


	16. Time After Time

Buffy woke up groggy, a dull throb pulsing behind one temple. She reached out, hopeful, but the other side of her bed was still empty. Her heart sank as she finally opened her eyes. She’d tossed and turned all night, waiting impatiently for Spike, but he’d never come back.

She eyed the cold cup of tea on her nightstand. Maybe she should have given it a try, but she’d been afraid that if she’d drunk it she’d have been too deeply asleep to notice the vampire’s return. Buffy reached for the cup and peered into it. Whatever herbs Tara had used had settled and congealed on the bottom. Buffy made a disgusted face. She’d better dump this before anyone noticed, though it had been really nice of Willow’s friend to try and help.

Buffy opened the curtains and peered out over the roof and into the yard, just in case. Nothing. Maybe she was overreacting. He hadn’t really given a time frame for his return. Buffy chewed on her lower lip anxiously for a minute. Maybe he hadn’t meant to come back at all. Her whole chest constricted for a moment and she shook her head as though she could rid herself of the thought. He’d said he would help. He wouldn’t just leave town without telling her. Unless…no, he’d promised he wouldn’t kill anyone. She had to believe it.

Abandoning the window, Buffy moved to her closet. He’d show up later, he always did. She managed to get her breathing back to normal, dressing quickly and heading for the stairs to see what the others were up to.

“Buffy?”

Buffy paused in the hall just before her foot hit the top step of the staircase. “Willow?” The redhead was standing in the doorway to her mom’s room. Both witches had stayed there last night, saying they didn’t mind sharing, which was good because it was the only other bed in the house.

“Uh, morning.” Willow’s eyes strayed behind Buffy for a moment. “Is Spike here?”

Buffy felt her heart thump hollowly. “No.” She frowned. “Why?”

Willow seemed a little nervous, shifting from foot to foot. “Giles was wondering. I told him Spike wasn’t back when we went to bed last night.”

“Okay.” Buffy was still unclear about why her Watcher had asked about the vampire, but maybe Giles would be more direct. “I guess I’ll go talk to him. Is there coffee?”

Willow furrowed her brow. “Did the tea not work? Tara’s usually really good with witchy healing stuff.”

“Oh, it totally helped.” Thank goodness Buffy had already gotten rid of the evidence of that particular lie. “I’ve just got a lot of sleep to catch up on.” She flashed Willow a guilty smile. “Tell Tara thanks.”

“I will.”

Buffy nodded and went downstairs, making a beeline for the kitchen. She just needed to wake up a little bit. That would make her feel better. Then she could concentrate on something other than where Spike might be right now. God, she hoped the Initiative hadn’t found him. Even with the Gem he was still just one vampire against a whole demon-hunting commando squad. Maybe she shouldn’t have let herself get so distracted last night before he’d told her where he’d been.

“Ah, Buffy.”

Buffy stopped, sighing. Damn, so close. She turned to look at Giles, already ensconced at the dining room table and surrounded by books. Lydia was beside him, appearing slightly frazzled. “Giles.” Buffy glanced out the window, noticing that it was later than she’d thought.

“Robson and Henry will be coming over this afternoon. We need to start coordinating everything.”

“Okay.” Buffy headed for the coffee again.

“Buffy?”

Buffy tried to keep from snapping Lydia’s head off. “What?”

Lydia looked at her uncertainly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but have you had contact with William the- I mean, Spike, since yesterday?”

Giles pinched his lips together, looking disapproving, but he didn’t say anything. Buffy glanced at her Watcher curiously before answering. “No, do we need him for something?” Other than to make sure he was safe, she added silently. She was pretty sure that wasn’t the reason Lydia was asking though.

Giles let out a small, annoyed noise and Lydia looked flustered. “No! No, I just was rather hoping to, ah, speak with him. To update the Council’s information about him, of course. It’s not often a vampire assists a Slayer.”  She smiled almost apologetically. “Practically never, actually.”

“Oh.” Buffy lifted her eyebrows. “Um, I really haven’t seen him since yesterday.” She fidgeted for a moment, fighting back panic. “Is there coffee?”

“Should be,” Giles said absently, already absorbed in another book. “And perhaps it’s best if he doesn’t turn up again, Buffy. I doubt he’d be much help.”

Buffy took a deep breath before replying, wanting to sound calm. “He’s done nothing but help since this all started, Giles, you know that.”

Her Watcher slammed shut the book he was reading, making Lydia jump. “Yes, since this all started. And how did it start again? Let’s see, with him attempting to _murder_ you. Or have you forgotten?”

Buffy set her jaw. “But he didn’t, did he?”

Giles snorted. “No, he did not. Instead, he slaughtered other innocent humans. Buffy, you cannot turn a blind eye to the fact that he is the very thing you are duty-bound to kill.”

Buffy felt queasy. She couldn’t kill Spike. Not after what he’d done for her. Giles was glaring at her. “He said he wouldn’t anymore,” Buffy whispered, feeling like a child called into the principal’s office. Giles wouldn’t understand and she couldn’t bear to see his disappointment, but Buffy didn’t know how to explain without telling her Watcher everything. Spike wasn’t just another vampire, he was _Spike_.

“That’s not good enough!” Giles stood up, his face hard. He leaned over the table towards her. “Do you know where he is now? How do you know he hasn’t been out all night feasting on the people you’re supposed to help? He’s a monster, Buffy, not a man.”

Buffy felt tears prick her eyes. She wanted so badly to tell Giles he was wrong, but the tiny strand of doubt that had wormed its way into her heart this morning when she’d woken up alone kept her from getting the words out. She wanted to believe Spike wasn’t killing again, but by his own admission he was still unclear on why it was even _wrong_. He’d said he would try but Giles was right, Spike was still a vampire and he didn’t have a soul to guide him like Angel had.

“I need some coffee,” Buffy whispered. She fled to the kitchen.

 ***

The day was turning out to be interminably long.

Every thump had Buffy peering out the windows, hoping to see the wayward vampire, but it was never him. She’d chosen to move her assigned stack of books into the living room to escape the stern countenance of her Watcher. Willow and Tara had joined her, taking over the couch and passing spellbooks back and forth between them while Willow did something hacker-y on her laptop. Half of the words they used sounded foreign to Buffy, but they seemed to understand one another pretty well.

The rest of Giles’ houseguests had joined them late in the afternoon, gathering around the dining room table and quietly chatting over what appeared to be an endless amount of tea. Robson seemed competent enough. He was older, and while he was obviously a Council member, at least he wasn’t wearing tweed. Buffy thought that might be a good sign. The other one, Henry, was very quiet and dressed the most casually, although that just meant he was wearing a maroon button-up shirt without a blazer. They’d all had a brief conversation about their preparations, but once the conversation devolved into a debate about detonators, Buffy had bowed out.

Willow looked up, catching Buffy’s eye and giving her a tentative smile. The light outside was fading fast and still there was no sign of Spike. Buffy shifted in her chair and tried to smile back, feeling slightly guilty that she hadn’t done a single productive thing all day.

“Xander said he’d come by after work and bring pizza,” Willow said.

“Okay,” Buffy replied quietly.

Tara glanced at Buffy in concern. “Do you want me to make you some of that tea again tonight?”

Buffy almost shook her head before deciding maybe she should accept the offer. She’d been sleeping just fine while Spike was around, but last night had been miserable and it didn’t look like the vampire was coming back anytime soon. “Thanks, that’d be nice, Tara.” Willow beamed at her like Buffy had done more than just be polite.

A knock on the front door had them all jumping in surprise. Buffy sat up abruptly, all her senses on alert, but her vampire tinglies were silent. She sighed in disappointment. “Are we expecting anyone?” Buffy called in the direction of the dining room. She tossed the book she’d been pretending to read aside and stood up.

“Not until tomorrow,” Giles said, entering the foyer at the same time she did. “Perhaps it’s Xander.”

“Since when does he knock?” Buffy pulled the door open and she and her Watcher both froze in surprise.

“Don’t slay me!” The strange-looking creature on the front porch said quickly, holding something in front of it like a shield. Buffy’s eyes were glued to the long, black leather coat dangling from the thing’s hands.

“Where did you get that?” Buffy’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Uh, from Spike?” The cowering demon peeked out from behind one edge of the duster. His skin was hanging in deep folds across his face and down his neck, and his arms were in the same condition. His ears were folded over and drooping down towards the ground. The entire effect was that of a particularly ugly bloodhound.

“Where is he?” Buffy stepped out into the fading afternoon light and clenched her fists, glaring at this demon who’d taken Spike’s coat. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, I swear!” The demon took a step back, his chin skin wobbling. “He said…uh-”

Buffy latched onto the front of the demon’s shirt and dragged him closer. “You saw him? When? Where?”

“I-I…” The demon looked terrified, his skin positively dancing as he trembled. Buffy glared at him, waiting. As soon as he told her what he’d done with Spike, he was so going to die. “We’re friends!” The demon finally blurted.

“Friends?” Giles asked behind Buffy. “With Spike? That’s absurd.”

The demon looked chastened. “Okay, well, we’re not like, besties or anything, but he drops in on my poker games whenever he’s in town. Says I’ve always got the best snacks.” Buffy was pretty sure the demon was trying to smile but the skin flaps and sharp teeth were kind of throwing her off.

“What?” Buffy asked, confused. Was he saying Spike had been playing poker? She was going to kill that vampire. Although that still didn’t explain the coat. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” He glanced over his shoulder at the empty street. “Can we go inside? It’s kinda dangerous out here after dark nowadays.” Buffy lifted a disbelieving eyebrow at Giles. The others were huddled in the foyer, watching.

“Spell, Buffy,” Giles reminded her, waving in the general direction of the house.

“Oh yeah, the protection spell.” Buffy eyed the demon suspiciously. “So I guess you’re harmless.” She finally loosened her hold on his shirt and took a step back, crossing her arms.

“Unless you’re a kitten!” The demon gave her that weird, teeth-baring smile again.

“Pardon?” Giles asked.

“Uh, nothing. I’m Clem.” He extended his hand to Buffy, who shook it after a stunned moment.

“Buffy.”

Clem laughed nervously. “Oh, believe me, I know who you are.”

“Come in, Clem,” Buffy finally sighed.

“Thanks!” He beamed at her. “Boy, you’re way nicer than everyone says.”

“Hey-” Buffy started to protest, then paused. “Oh, to demons you mean.” She’d never really thought about it that way before.

Clem followed her inside. Everyone relocated to the living room and Clem handed Spike’s jacket to Buffy with great formality. She clutched the familiar fabric to her chest and resisted burying her face into it. “So.” Clem looked more cheerful as he took in his surroundings. “You’ve got a nice place here, Slayer.”

“Thanks?” Buffy hazarded, draping the coat over her arms and taking a seat on the couch with Giles on one side of her and Willow and Tara on the other. Clem surveyed the furniture and chose the chair Buffy had been lounging in earlier. The others hovered in the doorway to the living room, looking slightly alarmed. Buffy almost laughed. For a bunch of Watchers they sure seemed freaked out by an apparently harmless demon. 

Clem clapped his hands on his knees and stared at her expectantly but Buffy couldn’t think of what to say. She just wanted to pick him up and shake him until he told her where Spike was. Giles cleared his throat. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” her Watcher said. Buffy glanced at him gratefully.

“Sure.” Clem settled back in the chair. “Let’s see, it’s my turn to host the poker game because tonight’s when my roommate goes to get his wrappings trimmed and cats freak him out. I was trying to decide between French onion and guacam-”

“Perhaps start with when you first saw Spike,” Giles interjected.

“Oh.” Clem thought for a minute. “Today, right after I decided to go with a fiesta theme.”

Buffy took a breath and willed herself to be patient. This demon really didn’t seem like a threat to anyone, so she probably shouldn’t slay him, even if he was driving her crazy. “Where was he?”

“Spike?” Clem looked surprised. “He knocked on my door just like always. I told him he was too early but he said he needed me to give you a message. Oh, and he asked me to go get his jacket.”

Buffy sighed in relief. “So he’s okay.” She ignored the frown Giles sent her way.

Clem’s eyes widened earnestly. “They haven’t caught him yet, I don’t think, but he wasn’t really looking so good when I saw him.”

Buffy straightened up on the sofa. “What? Who? What happened?”

Clem lifted his hands and shrank back in alarm. “I don’t know exactly. He asked me to go get his coat from the junkyard because some, uh, initial guys or something were after him. Oh, and he said…” Clem screwed up his face in concentration. “He said don’t worry, he’ll get rid of them before coming home.”

Buffy’s heart simultaneously lurched at the words ‘get rid of’ and glowed at the word ‘home’. She refocused on Clem. “How did they find him?”

Clem shrugged. “He didn’t say, but can you tell him that I’m working on getting some of the game-night regulars on board? I forgot earlier.” The demon glanced anxiously out the window at the deepening twilight. “I should go.”

“Okay,” Buffy said, barely acknowledging his message. She really had more important things to worry about than some demon poker game. What was she going to do if Spike returned and he’d killed some of the Initiative’s soldiers? She saw Giles glance at her out of the corner of her eye. Her Watcher would expect her to do her duty. She was having trouble breathing, unable to get the air deep into her lungs.

“Yes, well, thanks for letting us know.” Giles escorted Clem to the door and shut it behind the demon before anyone spoke again.

“What was that?” Willow looked confused. “I’ve never seen one before.”

Giles sighed. “Loose-skinned demon.”

 “Wow, they ran out of cool names, huh?” Willow said, trying to smile as she cast an anxious glance at Buffy.

Buffy blinked and tried to shove away her worries. She would deal with it when Spike got back. There was no use dwelling on something that hadn’t happened yet. Spike was all right, or at least he had been when Clem saw him. That was what mattered. The weight pressing down against her chest lightened a little bit.

Giles shot the redhead an irritated look. “They’re fairly harmless and tend to prey on small wildlife.” He turned to Buffy. “The more pressing issue here is, as always, Spike. We cannot allow him to roam unchecked any longer. Despite what The Initiative has done, we’re trying to minimize the casualties, not leave a trail of bodies behind us.”

“We don’t know that he meant killing anyone,” Buffy said weakly.

Giles’ eyes narrowed. “I’m sure that will be a great comfort to those soldiers’ families.”

Buffy stared at the floor, overcome with guilt and unable to look at her Watcher. Maybe she should have kept a closer eye on Spike, but he’d asked her to trust him and how could she take that back after everything that had happened between them? “I can’t, Giles.”

“You must.” Giles’ tone was gentle but firm.

“Why?” Buffy’s head snapped up, her back stiffening. “Because a bunch of old guys in suits say so?” She jerked her chin at the foyer where Giles’ colleagues were gathered, watching. “And women,” Buffy amended, glaring at Lydia.

“Because you have a sacred duty!” Giles said, exasperated.

Buffy stared at him for a long time, then took in the expectant stares of others scattered around the living room. Why was it always up to her? Why couldn’t they see that things had changed? _She_ had changed. “Then I quit.”

“What?” Giles’ mouth fell open. “Buffy, you cannot simply-”

“Watch me.” Buffy shook out Spike’s coat and swung it over her shoulders. It was almost like having him back with her, where he should be. “You want to know something Giles? After everything I’ve been through—including the time I _died_ —the worst thing that’s ever happened to me was being kept down in that place while totally normal humans used me for their creepy experiments.”

She slipped her arms through the sleeves of the coat and carefully turned up the cuffs until her hands were visible. The smell of it enveloped her, and she felt like she could breathe properly again. Being cooped up all day in this house had her on edge. Even looking out the front window had starting reminding her uncomfortably of her cell down in the lab. Only there was no Spike on the other side of the glass to ground her. She pulled the jacket around her a little tighter.

“Buffy-”

“No.” Buffy turned a hard gaze on Giles. “You know who helped me, out of everyone down there? Not the soldiers, not the doctors, not even my own freaking professor. The Council didn’t bother to find out what happened to me and Angel, apparently, didn’t feel like it either. Spike got me out, Giles. He was the only one who even tried. You expect me to dust him? Then I’m done. I’m not going to be the Slayer anymore. Why don’t you go wake up Faith?” Buffy glared at them all defiantly.

Lydia lifted a tentative hand.

“What?” Buffy asked testily, crossing her arms. She really didn’t get why this woman was even here.

“She’s…well, I suppose you wouldn’t know this, but she was relocated to England after your dea-disappearance so we could keep a closer eye on her. She hasn’t regained consciousness yet but the Council’s quite hopeful. She’ll have to go through an extensive retraining programme, obviously, but-”

“Oh,” Buffy frowned. “You’re right, I didn’t know that.”

“Right, because you were…well.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her and looked at Giles helplessly.

“I know it can seem overwhelming sometimes, Buffy, but…” Giles started again.

“I’m going to do some more research.” Buffy ignored him and headed toward the living room to pick up her books and pretend to read again. “And wait for Spike.”

The door opened at that precise moment, making Buffy’s heart leap into her throat. She turned, the vampire’s name on her lips, but it was only Xander and Anya bearing pizza boxes.

“Oh.” Buffy deflated.

Xander looked confused. “Yeah, hey to you too, Buff. What are you…is that fangface’s coat? Why are you wearing that?” He paused. “Again?”

“It’s a long story.” Willow laughed nervously and took the top pizza box from Xander’s stack. “I think we could all use a nice break, right Buffy?”

Buffy sighed. “Yeah, sure.” It was full dark outside now. She moved to peer out the door but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No commandos hiding in the bushes. No vampires lurking in the shadows. She wondered what it would be like to have a truly normal life. What would she be if she wasn’t the Slayer? Buffy stared out into the darkness, waiting.


	17. Crazy Train

“There’s some leftover pizza,” Willow ventured.

Buffy was pacing restlessly in front of the couch. She hadn’t let anyone close the curtains but she was starting to wonder if that might not have been the best plan. Every time she caught sight of her reflection in the window she flinched slightly, feeling imprisoned again. Spike’s coat was heavy on her shoulders, flapping around her legs as a tangible reminder that they’d escaped. No one was going to take her away and operate on her. God, she hoped the soldiers hadn’t caught him. It’d been hours since Clem had left.

“I’m not hungry,” Buffy said tersely.

Xander yawned, his cheek smushed against his fist as he kept his head propped up. He hadn’t turned one page of the book in his lap in over an hour. Buffy had given up pretending to research completely and even the group of Watchers in the other room had replaced their teacups with glasses of something Giles had dug out of her mother’s liquor cabinet.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Tara said softly, looking at Buffy in concern. “Willow told me he has that Gem that makes him immune to harm.”

Buffy’s shoulders slumped. “I know, but…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. But what if Giles was right? What if Spike did kill again, what would she do then? She’d once thought that killing Angel would be the worst thing she’d ever had to do, but the thought of dusting Spike had her insides twisting with a new level of pain and revulsion. She should have stuck to her original plan, the one she’d come up with before she’d ever heard of The Initiative. She should have just told Spike to leave and never come back. He’d be safe then.

Xander snorted loudly. “Who cares about bloodbreath?”

“Buffy does,” Anya answered, frowning when Xander turned to her with a disbelieving expression. “What? She’s obviously concerned about his wellbeing. I’m almost certain that humans would consider that caring.”

“But…” Xander’s mouth was working, but nothing further came out.

Willow shot Xander a warning look before turning back to Buffy. “That…demon guy seemed to think Spike was fine, right? I bet he’s just, you know, making extra sure he’s lost them or something.”

“I guess,” Buffy sighed. She turned back to the front window to see if she could make out any Spike-shaped shadows in the yard.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Xander asked, bewildered. “I mean, why are we worried about Spike? Shouldn’t we be worried about everyone out there with him?”

“Because he helped Buffy, remember?” Willow lifted her eyebrows and seemed to be trying to convey something to Xander solely through facial contortions.

“Once!” Xander said, sounding frustrated and giving Willow a look of confusion. “Am I the only one who remembers he tried to kill us a lot more often than that?”

Buffy saw Tara glance over but she didn’t have the energy to argue with Xander at the moment. Her whole body ached with tension. The soldiers better not have captured Spike again. She couldn’t bear to think of him trapped in that awful place alone.

“Sometimes the best thing people can do is forgive one another,” Tara said softly.

“Okay. A: Spike’s a vampire, not people, and two: He tried to kill us!” Xander sounded a lot more awake than he had been a few minutes ago.

“Well, Buffy was also trying to kill him at the time,” Anya pointed out. “So that seems fair.”

“I never tried to kill him,” Xander protested. “I was usually just trying not to die!”

“And he didn’t kill you, either,” Anya said calmly. “That’s actually pretty decent for a vampire.”

“I…what?” Xander stared at the girls in the living room and Buffy watched them all in the reflection of the glass window. 

“That’s…kinda true,” Willow said hesitantly. “I mean, even that one time when he kidnapped us he didn’t, you know, really try to kill us or anything.”

“Cordelia almost died!” Xander exclaimed.

“That wasn’t Spike’s fault,” Willow said softly, glancing at Tara. The other witch gave Willow a small smile.

Xander was gaping at all of them, his mouth hanging open. “We’re talking about the same Spike here, right? The evil, soulless vampire? Or did I hit my head and wake up in some alternate universe?”

Willow sighed. “Just…give him a chance, Xander.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, but Buffy could still hear her. “It’s important to Buffy.”

Xander’s brow furrowed. “Why?” he asked in that same false whisper.

“Because obviously he and Buf-” Anya started.

“Because it just is!” Willow interrupted as she glared at Anya.

Something thumped loudly upstairs, making Xander jerk in his seat. “What was that?”

Buffy frowned at the ceiling and surveyed the living room. “Are we missing anyone?”

Willow shook her head, her eyes wide. She leaned forward so she could see through the doorway to the dining room. “We’re all down here,” she said nervously.

“Great,” Buffy muttered. She started toward the stairs, mentally going over the weapons she had stashed in the house. Most of the good stuff was upstairs in her room. Buffy plucked a letter opener off of her mom’s desk. “Stay here,” she instructed as she mounted the stairs two at a time.

Buffy overheard Willow explaining to Giles what had happened as she reached the top step, pausing to listen. There was another thump, this one from the direction of her bedroom. Buffy was creeping down the hallway just as a low voice reached her ears, cursing profusely. She practically ran the rest of the way to her room, bursting in and flipping on the light.

“Spike?” The vampire was picking himself up off her floor. The chair she kept by her closet was overturned next to him.

“Where the hell did that come from?” The vampire scowled at the piece of furniture like it had personally insulted him and Buffy took a moment to drink him in. His clothes were streaked with dirt and mud and he smelled like he’d been rolling around in the sewers. She hadn’t been so happy to see him since the last time she’d thought he was dust.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, frozen in her doorway. A thousand questions flooded her mind.

“Been better.” Spike finally made it to his feet and met her gaze. “Got a problem and I’m not sure what else to do. Know I shouldn’t have come here, but I’m out of options.”

Buffy felt dread settle into her stomach. “What happened?”

Spike sighed tiredly. “Got shot with a tracker. Damn thing’s in my shoulder and I can’t get it out. Those soldiers won’t leave me the bloody hell alone. I’ve been trying to shake them since last night.”

Buffy bit her lip and moved closer to him. His clothes were certainly a mess, but she didn’t see any blood on them. A tiny hope bloomed. “We should tell Giles. Maybe he can help.”

Spike smiled a little, his hand reaching out to touch the lapel of his jacket she was still wearing. “Clem got my message to you, I see.”

“He did.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. He wasn’t dust. He hadn’t left her.

Spike twisted a strand of her hair around one finger, his touch as gentle as his voice. “Let’s go alert the Watcher. Those army boys aren’t going to be slowed down long by a disabled car.”

Buffy nodded. “Right.” She didn’t move.

Spike stared down at her, his eyes a subdued blue in the overhead light. “Glad to see they didn’t find you, Slayer.”

“You came back,” she whispered.

“Course I did.”

Buffy relaxed for the first time all day. Spike needed help. This she could do. She grasped his wrist, relieved at the feel of his cool skin under her hand once again, turned on her heel and headed downstairs. “Giles!” Everyone was waiting for her in the living room. She hauled Spike in behind her. “Giles, we have a-”

“Spike,” Giles ground out. The other Watchers suddenly looked wary. Lydia stared unabashedly. Buffy thought about telling the woman to go hang out in a cemetery if she wanted to gawk at vampires, but there were more important things they needed to deal with first.

“He’s-” Buffy tried again.

“Would you care to account for your whereabouts?” Giles said, glowering at the vampire.

“My whereabouts?” Spike asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, been a bit too busy trying to keep the damn soldiers away from you lot to update my appointment book.”

“What?” Giles looked thrown and Buffy took advantage of the lull.

“He’s got a tracker in his shoulder,” she blurted. “We have to get it out before they find us.”

“You consider this keeping them away from us?” Giles sputtered.

“I messed with their car first! Just hurry and it shouldn’t be a problem, Watcher.”

“Okay,” Buffy said firmly, grasping Spike’s arm and turning him. She glared at Giles before placing a gentle hand on the vampire’s back. “Where?”

Spike pointed over one shoulder and Buffy poked her finger through a hole in his shirt, feeling a lump under his skin. “Got it.” She turned to the group in the living room. “Anyone want to practice some vampire surgery?”

“Can’t you just magic it out?” Spike asked desperately.

“Maybe, if I, uh…”Willow trailed off and gazed into the distance as she pondered.

Tara shook her head, eyes wide. “I d-don’t know.”

Giles frowned. “It’ll take too long to figure out. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“I have a bit of medical training,” Henry volunteered uncertainly.

“Fantastic,” Spike muttered darkly. “A Watcher operating on a vamp. I’m sure nothing will go wrong there.”

“Perfect.” Buffy replied, ignoring Spike. “What do you need? Where should we set up?”

Giles sighed. “Let’s use the dining table. Come on.” Everyone trooped after Giles, clearing away the books in record time.

Spike grabbed the bottle of amber liquid that had been in the center of the table and looked happier as he took a swig from it. “Where do you want me?”

“On the table,” Giles gestured at it as Spike hopped up, yanking his shirt over his head. Buffy glared at Lydia as the woman’s eyes glazed over. Robson and Henry came back from the kitchen with a variety of sharp implements. “Get some towels, Buffy, this could get messy.” Buffy turned but Willow was already heading toward the linen closet.

A minute later everyone was hovering over Spike, staring at his unmarred shoulder. The vampire situated himself face down on the table, his long legs stretched out behind him while he propped himself up on his elbows. Buffy slid an old bath towel under him while dangled the bottle of liquor from his fingertips.

Henry’s lips were pinched tightly together as he rolled up his shirtsleeves and picked up a medium-sized kitchen knife. “Right,” Henry said. “Hold still.”

Buffy held her breath, her hands clenching into fists as she resisted reaching for the vampire. Spike kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he propped himself up on his elbows, his jaw firmly set.

Henry frowned in concentration and they all watched as a long red line appeared under the knife’s blade before vanishing, leaving Spike’s shoulder as smooth and pale as before. Henry lifted the knife up, eyeing it suspiciously. “Uh, let me try again.”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Giles snapped. “He’s got that damn ring on.”

Buffy’s eyes widened. She glanced around before dragging a chair over to sit in so she was level with the table. Spike was glaring at the room in general, a scowl on his face. “Let me hold it for you,” Buffy said quietly. “I’ll stay right here.” Spike met her eyes, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Buffy held his gaze steadily, willing him to trust her as much as she’d trusted him lately.

Spike sighed and unclenched his fist, finally extending his hand to her. She slipped the ring off his finger and onto her thumb, leaving her hand on the table next to him. Spike settled his head on his hands, his face turned towards her and his eyes on the ring. Buffy looked back up at Henry. “Try again.”

A car raced by outside, making everyone’s heads snap toward the front of the house. “Is there a way to interfere with the tracking signal?” Giles asked.

Tara lifted a hand. “We m-might-”

“Do it,” Giles cut her off.

Willow and Tara both nodded and went into the living room. Xander was hovering uncertainly in the doorway. “I’m, uh, going to…help.” He disappeared.

“He’s squeamish about sharp implements near body parts.” Anya said brightly before wandering after him.

“Here goes,” Henry muttered. His forehead was starting to shine with sweat.

Spike gasped this time, his eyes squeezing shut tightly. “Bloody hell! Do you think you could have found a duller knife?”

“I’m sure we could have,” Giles said. “Be quiet.”

Spike tilted the bottle of alcohol back and took several healthy swallows as Henry worked. Buffy saw a drop of bright red blood drip onto the towel. She slid her hand a little closer to the vampire so that their fingertips were touching. Spike finished off the bottle he was holding. “For Christ’s sake, get me another, Watcher.”

Giles grumbled something about the vampire having no appreciation but went to retrieve another bottle of liquor. Spike snatched it from him just as a wave of something cold and tingly washed over the room, making everyone shudder.

“What was that?” Lydia looked away from the vampire for the first time since he’d come downstairs.

Buffy watched as a few loose strands the other woman’s hair began to rise in the air of their own accord. “Uh, Giles?”

Giles smiled in the direction of the living room. “Ionizing the air, very clever.” He turned to Henry. “That’ll interfere with any electronics for a bit. Have you got it?”

“It’s deep,” Henry said, his brow furrowing. Spike grimaced and took another swig from his newest bottle. It was already half gone and his gaze was starting to waver a little. He reached out to tug Buffy’s hand closer, turning it over and resting his cheek on her palm, sighing. Lydia watched in fascination and Buffy pretended not to notice the woman’s stare. 

Giles frowned at Buffy. “Spike, we need to know a few things.”

“What, Watcher?” The vampire’s speech was slower, like he was carefully picking his words. He took another drink from the bottle he was cradling before settling his head back onto Buffy’s hand.

“How many commandos are searching for you?”  

“Was up to six at one point, but I think there’s just three now.”

“You got rid of a couple, I take it?” Giles asked, his tone radiating disapproval. He glanced at Buffy, but she ignored him.

“What? I don’t know what happened to the others. Think they might have switched out or something.”

 Giles furrowed his brow. “You didn’t kill them? Even though you had the Gem?”

“Slayer said not to.” Spike’s expression was pure confusion. “They’re human.”

Buffy shot Giles a scathing look. Her Watcher took off his glasses and polished them as though he hadn’t noticed.

Lydia was wearing an expression of pure delight. “Uh, excuse me Mr. Will- Spike?”

Spike lifted his head and frowned at her. “What? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Lydia,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “It’s quite a pleasure to meet you. I was hoping perhaps later we could arrange an interview so I could update the Watcher’s journals and-”

Spike turned back to Buffy, his expression disbelieving. “Is she serious?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, secretly pleased that Spike seemed as annoyed by Lydia as Buffy was. “She’s studied you or something, apparently.”

Spike smirked and took another drink. “Yeah?” He eyed the female Watcher, who smiled uncertainly, her entire face flushed now. Her hair was coming loose from her bun and floating in the air around her head, making her look like she was underwater. Buffy reached up tentatively to check her own hair and found it was sticking almost straight up in the air. She must look like a crazy person.

Spike was watching Buffy again, not paying any attention to the others. His eyes softened even as Henry asked Robson for a smaller knife. There was a puddle of blood forming on the towel next to him. “Like the new style, kitten,” Spike murmured sleepily.

Buffy gave him an exasperated look. “Oh, sure, make fun of me while we’re helping you.”

Spike tugged on her hand until she scooted even closer to the table. He set the mostly empty liquor bottle down  and reached out, grabbing a fistful of her hair as it waved over her head and brought it to his face, inhaling deeply. Buffy laid her head on the table next to him so that they were nearly nose to nose. Her eyes were level with his mouth and she watched his lips quirk up a tiny bit. “Not making fun,” he said softly.

Buffy tilted her head down a little so he could bury his nose in her hair, her hand curling protectively around the nape of his neck while the others chattered around them. She closed her eyes, listening to Henry directing Robson as Giles discussed the recently cast spell with Willow. Spike was muttering nonsense words under his breath, his fingers twisting strands of her hair. Buffy heard Lydia ask something about Spike that Giles curtly responded to. She wished she could shut out the world and pretend she was just a girl, but that was impossible.

They were all here because of her. They’d come to help her because she’d asked them to, because of who she was. She couldn’t abandon them now. Even if she wished it with every fiber of her being, she’d never stop being the Slayer. Buffy felt the vampire nuzzling against her scalp as Henry cut him open and thought about what it meant that he would let those soldiers run him ragged instead of killing them, just because she’d asked him not to. Maybe she had to be the Slayer, but she was also Buffy. No matter what the Council said, she was in charge, and maybe it was time to start making her own decisions.

“Got it!” Henry called triumphantly.

“It’s so tiny,” someone said.

“Flush it,” Giles instructed. Running feet left the room.

Buffy lifted her head and met the eyes of her Watcher, her fingers still rubbing slow circles at the base of the vampire’s skull as Spike rumbled happily. “Let’s get him patched up. Tomorrow we’ll bring him up to speed on the plan.”

Giles pressed his lips into a thin line but didn’t argue. He nodded once. “We’ll be back in the morning.”

Lydia was scribbling in a notebook nearby, her hair starting to fall back down into place. “Is this his typical behavior?” Her eyes were glued to Spike. “I must say, this is not what I was expecting.”

Giles pinched the bridge of his nose. “No. Get your things. We’re leaving.”

Henry appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a towel. “Thank you,” Buffy told him.

He inclined his head. “I hope he’ll be as helpful as you say.”

“He will be.”

Spike cracked open one eye. “Won’t need patching, Slayer.” He slipped the Gem off her thumb and back onto his own finger, letting out a little sigh as it did its work.

Lydia’s eyes widened as she stared at his healed back. “How extraordinary. Tell me, Spike, how-”

“Later,” Buffy said firmly, standing up. “We all need some sleep. Goodnight.” Spike pushed himself up, sliding off the edge of the table and rolling his shoulder experimentally. Buffy clasped his hand in hers, meeting her Watcher’s eyes squarely before pulling the vampire up the stairs. Behind her there was only a thunderous silence.


	18. Gets Me Through

Something was tickling her chin. Buffy swatted at it, but it didn’t go away. She opened one eye and found herself looked at a head of tangled, bleached hair. Spike was curled against her, his arm slung across her hips and his head resting on her shoulder. Her eyes strayed down a little further and she felt her whole body start to wake up as she realized that, once again, she had a naked vampire in her bed. Well, she could get used to this.

She remembered dragging Spike up the stairs last night and getting ready for bed as he washed away the blood and grime in the shower, but she didn’t remember much after that. The sleepless night had apparently caught up with her, now that he was safe again.

Buffy reached a hand up and ran it through his messy hair. Her room was still dark, and she wondered what time it was. She didn’t hear any movement downstairs. Spike mumbled against her shoulder and rolled slightly so that he was lying back against the pillows beside her.

There was a towel crumpled on the chair by her window and a pile of Spike’s filthy clothes on the floor beside it. Buffy made a mental note to do some laundry. She might appreciate a naked vampire wandering around the house, but she’d rather not share him with the others. Especially since she was pretty sure Lydia would enjoy it a lot more than any Watcher really should. Buffy wrinkled her nose.

Buffy propped herself up on her side and ghosted a hand over Spike’s chest. She’d seen a lot of it over the last few weeks, but it still made her mouth go dry. If someone had told her last summer that she’d be admiring Spike’s body, she would have laughed until her sides ached. Now she wanted to go back and slap herself for not noticing sooner. Of course, he’d been trying to kill her then, so perhaps her old self had a good reason for that obliviousness.

Spike’s face was slack with sleep, his entire body relaxed in a way that made him seem so much more vulnerable than the image he liked to present to the world. His chest rose and fell very occasionally like a half-remembered vestige from his human days. She imagined this might have been what he looked like back then, when he’d been William.

She let her hand and her eyes drift down a little lower, taking in the deep vee of his lower abdomen, pointing right down to his…well. A smile flitted across her face. She bit her lip for a minute, feeling nervous and daring as she slowly scooted down the bed, keeping a careful watch on his face. She was surprised the pounding of her heart hadn’t woken him yet.

She carefully placed her hands on either side of his still body. When her head was level with his hipbone she inhaled quietly before bending forward and taking the head of his soft cock between her lips. He began to stir as she sucked him deeper into her mouth, his skin smooth against her tongue. She could feel his erection growing as she pulled back a little before drawing him in again, his shaft starting to lengthen.

“Bloody fuck,” Spike growled above her, his voice gravelly from sleep.

Buffy moved to settle between his legs as he made room for her and dragged his fingers through her hair. She sighed happily, liking this new angle better as she sucked on just the head of him. She glanced up and saw him watching her, his eyes half-lidded and dark. He’d pulled all her hair to one side so he could see her face, making her heart thump a little harder.

His arousal was strong and proud now and she couldn’t take it all in, compensating by wrapping her hand around the base as she dragged her tongue along the underside of it. He was murmuring things she couldn’t quite catch but she figured it didn’t matter since he sounded pleased. She turned her attention back to his cock, sliding her lips down the thick shaft until she felt it bump against the back of her throat, pulling all the way up to take a breath. He inhaled sharply as she swirled her tongue around the swollen head, so she did it again.

“So good, kitten,” he rumbled quietly. “God, your mouth is like a furnace.” Buffy stilled for a moment and looked up questioningly, not sure if that was a good thing or not. Spike looked alarmed. “Don’t stop; feels amazing.” Reassured, Buffy returned to her task, determinedly taking in as much of him as she could. His hips were moving in time with her mouth and her hand as she worked, enjoying the noises he was making. She lost herself in the slide of his cock between her lips and the mumbled praise that reached her ears.

Eventually, his rhythm faltered and the hand in her hair twisted a little harder, pulling her mouth away from his cock. She made a noise of protest as it slipped from between her lips, glancing up at his face. His mouth was hanging open as his chest heaved with unnecessary breath. “Gonna-” he started. Buffy watched him reach for his cock while his other hand rubbed her hair between his fingers. 

She smiled up at him. “That was the idea,” she said, batting his hands away and taking hold of her own hair. She grasped his cock with one hand, and carefully wound a chunk of her hair around his shaft, curling her fingers over the top of it. Her cheek was flush against the inside of his thigh as she gave him an experimental stroke. Spike let out a choked cry and wrapped his hand over her own, forcing her to tighten her grip as his hips started bucking.

“Fuck,” he hissed again, and then his cock was pulsing under her fingertips and she could feel his seed sliding along her scalp and dripping down towards her temple. It kind of tickled. “Christ, Buffy,” he said huskily, his hand tugging hers away as his softening cock slipped out of her hair. “Come here.” Buffy crawled up over him, trying to push her hair back as it swung down against her cheek, heavy on one side. Spike smiled widely at her and twisted a handful of her hair around his hand. “Hang on,” he said, rolling her to the side and starting to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Spike leaned down and kissed her quickly before getting up and returning almost before she realized he was gone. “Here.” He settled down next to her, taking one edge of the towel he’d abandoned and swiping at the drying come in her hair.

Buffy watched his face as he concentrated on cleaning her up. “Was I…was that okay?”

Spike made one final pass across her temple and tossed the towel over his shoulder before flopping back down and pulling her flush against him. “Okay?” he snorted. “Jesus, Slayer. That was incredible.”

“Yeah?” Buffy asked shyly, pleased at the compliment.

“Yeah,” Spike’s hands were working under her shirt, pushing her camisole up as he reached her breasts and started making small circles with his thumbs. “Think it might be your turn now.”

“What time is it?”   

“Hm?” Spike asked distractedly. “Early. Sun’s just coming up. Come on, let’s get you out of these clothes. I want to make you scream.” His deft fingers pinched her nipples, making her gasp loudly.

“We shouldn’t, someone will hear,” Buffy whispered nervously.

“The witches are busy and no one else is here yet.”

“They’re already researching?” Buffy tried to sit up. 

Spike pulled her back down, his hands sliding under the waistband of her pajama bottoms. “No, Slayer, they’re _busy_.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“What?” Buffy looked at him in confusion for a second until her face cleared. She blushed. “Really? Willow and Tara are-”

Spike’s fingers were kneading her backside. “Not really caring about those two at the moment, kitten. Got something else I’d rather be doing.”

Buffy bit her lip and gazed at the vampire next to her. It was unbelievable to think that he was the same kind of creature Angelus had been. She bent to kiss him softly. “Me too.”

“Yeah?” Spike looked pleased. “Well then, let’s get these knickers off.”

Buffy felt laughter bubbling up in her chest as Spike set about disrobing her as quickly as possible, yanking so hard on her camisole she was pretty sure one of the straps broke. The moment she was naked he wrapped his arms and legs around her, pulling her close. He nuzzled her throat. “Did I tell you how much I enjoyed earlier?” He had her trapped in his embrace as his cock swelled to life between them.

“I kinda managed to guess,” Buffy giggled. She didn’t remember sex ever being this much _fun_. Spike sighed happily against her skin, nipping it lightly with blunt teeth. Buffy wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rolled them so she was underneath, staring up at his face. “Are you going to show me how much?”

Spike grinned down at her, his hips grinding slowly against hers. “I don’t think we have that much time, but trust me, love, I’ll do my best.” He took her face between his hands and kissed her deeply, tangling their tongues together, and all thoughts of keeping quiet flew out of her head.

***

By the time Buffy managed to get showered and dressed everyone had arrived, even Xander and Anya. They were all gathered in the living room and chattering about possible points of entry as she snuck into the kitchen, only to find Willow rummaging through the cabinets. Buffy made a beeline for the coffee and smiled at her friend, hoping she didn’t look as oversexed as she felt. Her legs were still a little jellified. 

“Good morning?” Willow said, making it sound more like a question, her eyebrows raised.

Damn. Buffy poured herself some coffee and sipped it, stalling for time. She made a disgusted face. “Ugh, needs sugar. And yes, how about you and Tara?” Buffy lifted her own eyebrows pointedly, gratified to see Willow blush.

“How did you...?”

“Vampire hearing.” Buffy said wryly. She might as well let it all out of the bag now, since Willow seemed to know anyways.

“Oh,” Willow squeaked, going even redder.

“Don’t worry, he got distracted.”

Willow glanced toward the living room. “Buffy,” she said, lowering her voice, “are you sure you should-”

“I’m sure,” Buffy said firmly, cutting her off. Willow looked less than convinced. “Besides, it’s not like he has a soul to lose.”

Willow didn’t seem to appreciate the joke, although maybe Buffy’s sense of humor had gotten a little darker lately. “No, but-”

“But what?” Spike sauntered into the kitchen, his expression entirely too self-satisfied. Buffy was going to have to wipe that smirk off his face later. He rubbed his belly, his smirk becoming more of a grimace and she remembered something Giles had told her.

“There’s blood in the fridge.” Thank god her Watcher had planned ahead. Even though Spike had the Gem, he’d lost a fair amount of blood during his impromptu surgery yesterday.

“Ta, love.” The vampire started rummaging through the fridge while Buffy pulled down a coffee mug and set it on the island for him. Willow’s eyes flicked between them, looking perplexed.

“Uh, nothing,” Willow replied to Spike’s earlier question. “I’m just gonna…” She disappeared before finishing her sentence.

Buffy turned towards the vampire as he emerged from the fridge with a container of blood and a sour look on his face. “’Course it’s pig’s blood,” he grumbled.

“Is your shirt inside out?” Buffy glanced at his jeans. They were even filthier than she remembered.

Spike frowned down at himself. “It’s yours, only black one you had, except it had some horrible, sparkly thing on it.”

Buffy bit back a smile. “I’ll find you something to wear and do a load of laundry.”

Spike poured some of the blood into the mug and looked at it doubtfully. “You think it’ll be better heated?”

“Microwave’s over there,” Buffy waved at it before heading toward the basement door. She was pretty sure her mom hadn’t ever gotten around to donating that box of her dad’s clothes they’d somehow ended up with. She stopped short. “I almost forgot. That demon that came by yesterday…?” Buffy couldn’t remember his name.

“Clem?” Spike was experimentally pressing buttons on the microwave.

“Yeah, he said to tell you, um, he was trying to get the regulars on board.” Buffy furrowed her brow. “On board for what? A poker game?”

Spike’s busy fingers were suddenly still. He didn’t turn around to face her. “Uh, something like that. I’ll talk with him later. Thanks, kitten.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes in suspicion but he didn’t elaborate. She’d get it out of him later, she decided. She had some new tricks up her sleeve now. 

***

Spike tugged uncomfortably at the waistband of the borrowed jeans he was wearing. They were just loose enough that he had to keep pulling them up, and he was fairly sure that was the main reason the lady Watcher was keeping such a close eye on him. As if she even registered when his Slayer was in the room. Or out of the room for that matter. Buffy was everything he’d never even known he wanted, which either made him a complete failure as a demon, or the most brilliant demon ever. He wasn’t entirely sure yet, but he was leaning toward the latter option.

The group of Watchers had chattered on about nothing Spike cared to pay attention to, right up until Giles had barked the vampire’s name a couple of times to get his attention.

“What?” Spike asked, annoyed. He leaned against the wall and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his borrowed jeans, feeling them slide down further than expected.  He hiking them back up as they rode dangerously low on his hips and settled for crossing his arms instead. The lady Watcher’s eyes had glazed over. He scowled at her before returning his attention to Giles.

“I asked whether you had any munitions experience.”

“Blown up lots of things in my time, Watcher,” Spike smirked.

Giles sighed wearily. “Yes, of course you have. Have you built any bombs?”

Spike’s brow creased. “Uh, not really built so much as…improvised.” The vampire glanced at Buffy but she looked as bored as he felt. He was itching to find Clem and ask what the demon had heard. The sun was heading toward the afternoon part of the sky and apparently they were planning on going in tonight, so it was now or never and Spike was loathe to let his Slayer down.

A knock at the door interrupted them and Willow practically flung herself across the room to be the one to answer it. Spike had heard her and her bird chattering excitedly all morning about some magic woman flying in from England. All these stuffy Brits were making him remember the reasons he hadn’t been to London for decades. His neck was starting to itch like he’d been forced into a starched collar again. Maybe the newest witches would serve as enough of a distraction for him to slip out.

“Rupert!” One of the new arrivals trilled as she entered the living room. Her white hair hung in a long braid down her back, but otherwise she looked no different from a thousand other grandmothers Spike had seen. The second one trailed along in her wake, her dark hair in the same style despite her being a couple decades younger. Spike could smell the power rolling off of them. He stayed quiet and eased a little further back in the room.

“Hello, Helen,” Giles said with more warmth than the vampire knew he possessed. “I hope the trip wasn’t too ghastly. I know how much you hate to fly.”

“For you, darling boy,” the white-haired witch said. “Anything. Although I do expect an excellent Yule gift.”

“Of course.” Giles smiled at her companion. “Frances, lovely as always.”

“Is this everyone?” Frances looked around the room, frowning. “Well, no wonder you called.”

Helen was eyeing Spike in a way that made him highly uncomfortable. “And this is the vampire?”

Buffy was watching the newly-arrived witches suspiciously. “Yes,” she said boldly. “He’s with me, and his name is Spike.”

Spike felt his heart glow a little. Yesterday she’d faced down her Watcher for him and today she was claiming him in front of strangers. If he hadn’t been besotted before, he certainly would be now. She was full of surprises, his girl.

Helen let out a disbelieving snort but turned back to Giles. “The coven managed to come up with something, but I’m afraid it’s going to require either one of us or someone familiar with magic to set it off, which brings the numbers back down. It can’t be anywhere near the rest of us when it’s activated.”

“What is it?”

“A kind of…large, magical burst.” Helen responded. “A bit like an explosion, but non-harmful.”

“I see,” Giles mused, gazing around the room. His eyes landed on Spike and the vampire had to restrain himself from growling at the gleam in the old man’s eye. “Well then, Spike, I suppose you might prove yourself useful after all.”

“Not happening, Watcher,” Spike growled. “Going in with the Slayer.”

“Really, I must insist-”

“No, Giles.” Buffy was on her feet, glowering at her Watcher. “This is ridiculous. I’m not having you send away my strongest fighter and my best backup.” Spike lifted his chin triumphantly at the Watcher. As if he’d leave her unprotected with mere humans for assistance.

Giles clenched his jaw. “The rest of us will be there, Buffy.”

“Pick someone else.” Buffy crossed her arms.

“We need as much magical power as we can get,” Giles said, frustrated. “So unless you have an alternative solution…”

“I’ll go.” The lady Watcher was on her feet. “I can do it. I’ve had some training.”

“How much?” Helen asked, her tone shrewd. “Just the Council seminars?”

“Well, yes.”

Helen shook her head. “I’m not sure that would work.”

“You said we’d be far from the…operation?” Anya asked. It was practically the first thing Spike had heard her say all day.

“Yes,” Helen nodded. “It’s meant to be the diversion.”

“I can do it,” Anya said, glancing at Xander. “It’ll be better than sitting at home wondering if you’re all dead or not.”

Xander smiled encouragingly at her and patted her hand. “You sure, Ahn?”

She nodded once, taking a deep breath and turning back to the witches. “I’ll help Lydia.”

“What’s your…”

“She’s a thousand-year-old ex-vengeance demon,” Giles interrupted. “I’m sure she can handle it.”

Helen looked surprised, but quickly recovered her calm demeanor. “Excellent. When do we start?”

“Tonight,” Buffy said. She had that tone in her voice that brooked no argument. It made Spike want to kneel at her feet and offer her fealty. “After sunset. That’s when they seemed to be the busiest.”

“Are you sure the fraternity is the best way in?” Robson queried. “Perhaps we could set up posts throughout the campus to see where they emerge from.”

“I don’t want us splitting up,” Buffy said. “And I know at least three of the soldiers belong to that frat. I’d bet my favorite stake the entire house is a government front.” She frowned. Speaking of Mr. Pointy, she wondered what her evil former professor had done with it.

“Fine.” Giles nodded. “Sunset it is. We’ll convene at that location and figure out a way in from there. I’ve procured us a couple of vehicles. Any other questions?” There was silence.

“Well then.” Helen rubbed her hands together. “Who’ll be first in line to get a nice concealment charm?”

Spike lost interest again as the whole living room filled with chatter. Buffy wandered toward where the vampire was standing, easily weaving through the throng. He watched her move with the innate grace her powers gave her, and promised himself that he would kill anyone who tried to touch her down in that hellhole. Surely she wouldn’t feel responsible for deaths that happened during the heat of battle? He smiled at her. “All right, love?”

Buffy propped herself up next to him and leaned over until their shoulders were touching. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.

“Said I would be.”

She smiled a little, surveying her troops. “You did.”

“Won’t let you down,” he promised. He reached up and ran a hand through her golden hair.

“I know, Spike.” Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear it. She leaned into his caress for a moment before straightening up. “I think the laundry should be done. Come on, let’s get you dressed so Lydia will stop drooling all over you.”

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth, delighted at her possessiveness. “Jealous, kitten?” Buffy rolled her eyes and left the room with Spike following close behind.

The quiet of the basement was a relief after the crowd upstairs. Spike had to rein in his need to press his Slayer into a wall and kiss her breathless. There wasn’t time for that now. Buffy pulled his clothes out of the dryer and while his shirt was a little worse for wear at least it no longer smelled like sewer. She handed him his things before piling the rest on top of the machine.

Spike stared at her for a moment, her hair a beacon in the dim basement lighting. She half-heartedly folded a few towels, looking off into the distance. He wondered suddenly if she was wishing for the assistance of a different vampire. He frowned. “Would you rather I set off the magic bomb, Slayer?”

“What?” Buffy turned, surprised. “Of course not! Did you not hear me up there?”

Spike shrugged. “Watching your back sounds like more like a job for Peaches. Isn’t he due to ride in on his white horse soon?” The clothes in his hands were still warm, and smelled a little like her. Spike wondered if she’d let that wanker stay here in her house, let him use her shower and her towels.  He felt a sharp stab of envy at the thought of Angelus ever having gone home covered in her scent. He wanted to rip that brooding ponce’s head from his meaty neck.

Buffy crinkled her nose, looking confused. “Who? Oh, Angel?” She shook her head. “He’s not coming.”

Spike snorted. “Course not. What, he have a hair appointment?”

Buffy regarded him with a serious expression. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him. Willow said he’s somewhere in Tibet.”

“What? Why?”

“Apparently mourning my untimely death,” Buffy said wryly. “I guess he didn’t even bother to come to Sunnydale and find out what really happened to us. Some vampire detective he is.”

Spike suddenly felt a lot more cheerful. She certainly didn’t sound like she was pining for his soulful grandsire. “Ah, well. He never did know how to properly enjoy a brawl.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Guess I’m lucky I have you then, huh?”

Spike wanted to bottle up this moment and hand-deliver it to Angelus just to watch the other vampire’s head explode. “Yeah, you are.” He probably sounded like a prat, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Buffy hopped up on the washer and crossed her legs, propping her head on one hand. Spike yanked off the borrowed shirt and pulled on his own while she watched, unusually quiet. “What’s rattling around up there, Slayer?”

“Do you-” Spike didn’t miss the way she lost her train of thought for a moment as he switched out his jeans but she recovered disappointingly quickly. “Do you think this is crazy?”

Spike looked at her in amusement. “Taking down a government-run demon lab full of soldiers with a couple of tweed-wearing poofs and a few witches? Course it’s crazy, love. Doesn’t mean it’s not brilliant.”

Buffy looked at him in exasperation. “That wasn’t really the answer I was looking for,”

Spike buttoned his jeans and moved closer to her, settling his hands on her knees. “Not going to lie to you, Buffy. Yeah, it’s a little crazy, but so was Patton, and look at how successful that bastard was.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Yeah, okay.”

Spike leaned in and kissed her swiftly. “Good. I’ll meet you there, all right?”

“Where are you going?” Buffy asked in dismay. “Do you have to leave now?”

Spike took a step back. “I’ll be there, kitten. I promise.”

Buffy pressed her lips into a thin line. He saw her swallow hard before she answered. “Okay.”

“See you soon.” Spike hurried up the basement stairs before her lower lip could distract him from his mission. No one stopped him as he went up the main staircase, heading for Buffy’s room and his duster. It wouldn’t do to leave his good luck charm behind tonight.


	19. War Pigs

Giles checked his watch. “Two minutes to go.”

Buffy wiggled on the floor of the minivan, trying to get comfortable as she peered through the tinted windows. She didn’t see Spike, but she really didn’t expect the vampire to be standing in plain sight by the frat house. He was out there somewhere, she reassured herself.

“And Anya’s not going to get hurt by the…magic bomb,” Xander asked again. Buffy didn’t look at him, but that was mostly because she couldn’t focus on his face and trying to made her slightly dizzy. All of them were concealed that way, courtesy of Helen and Frances. The men were dressed in green like the commandos, which was making Buffy’s skin crawl, but the witches’ disguises were worse. Every time Buffy caught a glimpse of a white coat out of the corner of her eye she automatically slipped into a defensive posture despite knowing they were on her side. She’d flatly refused to wear a lab coat over the jeans and sweater she’d put on this morning and no one had been able to persuade her otherwise.

“Oh no, there’s nothing harmful in it.” Helen paused. “Well, you might have some unusual weather for a month or so.”

“What?” Buffy glanced at the older witch in dismay before turning away again, focusing with relief on a trashcan lit up by a streetlight outside the car.

Helen shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. All magic has consequences and we felt that would be the least disruptive. Besides, you Californians are always crying about one drought or another. You should be grateful.”

Buffy sighed and mentally reviewed her closet, deciding she’d better go find a cute raincoat after this was over.

A second van with the rest of their motley little group was parked on a side street on the other side of the house. They were all hoping that one of them would catch sight of the soldiers heading out to investigate the magical disruption that Anya and Lydia were about to create. From her vantage point, Buffy could see into the front windows of the frat house. She could make out people-shapes inside, but no one distinct. She patted herself down again, accounting for all her knives, stakes, and assorted weapons.

“One minute,” Giles said tersely, peering at the brick building through the windshield. “It’s a damn good thing we didn’t have to rely on Spike to set this off.”

Buffy glared at her Watcher, but ignored the dig. Spike would be here. He’d promised.

The others shifted nervously in their seats as Giles started quietly counting down from ten. The moment came and went without a noticeable change inside the big house they were watching and Buffy’s entire body began to tense. She knew she was right about this. Another agonizing minute passed.

“Hey,” Willow whispered. “I think something’s happening.”

Buffy watched two large, athletic-looking men in crew cuts jog across the front lawn to the frat house and let themselves in. She couldn’t see shadows moving inside anymore. They all waited silently, practically holding their breath.

Finally, the walkie-talkie in Giles’ hand crackled to life. “Kizeme,” a voice whispered through the radio. It was either Robson or Henry, Buffy couldn’t tell. The word meant nothing to her but the Watchers had spent half an hour arguing about code words and that was what they’d settled on. Something about ancient swordspeople or something, Buffy hadn’t really cared. What mattered was that it meant the other team had seen the soldiers leaving. The house was unoccupied. It was time to move.

Buffy slid the van door open and stepped gratefully outside. She hated small spaces lately. She weaved her way through the trees around the perimeter of the house and the others followed her lead. The rest of their group was waiting on the west side of the house. Buffy looked around, drinking in everyone’s determined expressions. Even Tara seemed to be taking this entire bizarre mission in stride, despite being the newest of the Scoobies. Buffy sent up a silent request to the PTB to make sure everyone came through this relatively unscathed, not that the Powers seemed to care much lately.

A twig snapped somewhere behind them, making Buffy whirl and reach for a stake as her heart pounded in her chest. The back of her neck started tingling as a shadowy figure stepped out from under a tree and Xander yelped in surprise.

“Spike.” Buffy smiled. Giles heaved a put-upon sigh. More shadows appeared behind the vampire, materializing out of the trees. Buffy counted six in all. At least two were vampires, and three were demons she didn’t recognize. She spotted Clem hanging back with the others, and the demon gave her a little wave, the skin of his arm flapping. Buffy lifted her eyebrows at Spike. “It wasn’t about a poker game.”

“No,” Spike said smugly.

Buffy heard one of the older witches behind her hastily start whispering a spell but she held up her hand and took a step closer to the group of demons. Spike was watching her with a hopefully expression. “You brought reinforcements.”

The vampire’s smile was brilliant. “’Course I did. Told you I’d have your back down there.”

That made Buffy’s smile widen. “You did.”

Spike rocked back on his heels, grinning. “Yeah.” He stared at her in a way that made her entire body flush before he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “Oh, uh, these are a couple of fledges, Cyrus and Brian; Carl, his wife got captured last week.” Spike gestured at a small, yellow demon. “A Fyarl we’re calling Zuul; Clem you know, of course, and, uh…” Spike hesitated, gesturing at the final figure. The creature had a misshapen head and at least three arms that Buffy could see. “Bob.” He shrugged at Buffy in answer to her questioning glance. “No idea.”

Buffy nodded at all of them. The smaller vampire, Cyrus, seemed to be doing his best to stay behind the others and not make eye contact with her. She eyed him skeptically, glancing at Spike. “You sure they’re all going to be useful?”

Spike looked over his shoulder before turning back to her with a fond smile. He reached out and tucked a stray bit of hair that had come loose from her ponytail back behind her ear. “He’s more scared of you than going down there, Slayer.”

“Oh,” Buffy said sheepishly. She faced the demons again. “Okay, listen up. You guys are going to be the hostage rescue team.” Spike was watching her intently, his face more serious than she’d ever seen it. “A bunch of soldiers just left to check a decoy we set up, so there shouldn’t be many inside. We need to evacuate the whole place. Once the power shuts down and the cages are opened, get everyone out. No killing. This is a shut down operation. Got it?”

The demons all looked at each other and Spike before nodding. Buffy heard Clem saying something in a language that sounded mostly like grunting to one of the other demons. She turned to Tara and Frances, pointing. “You two are with them. Be careful.” She glanced over at Spike. “Keep them safe,” she added softly.

“Will do, Slayer.”

Tara seemed to be examining the demons with more interest than fear, and Frances seemed to take the change of plans in stride.

“Let’s go crash a party.” Buffy straightened her shoulders and headed for the front door of the frat house.

***

They’d been systematically searching the house for what felt like forever and so far they’d found a whopping zero entrances to the underground facility. There was no door conveniently labeled: ‘This Way to the Demon Lab’, or hidden staircase triggered by the books in the living room. Giles was starting to look at his watch much too frequently for Buffy’s liking.

“We’re not leaving until we find it,” Buffy hissed under her breath as she helped her Watcher look behind a large, hideous trophy case. Buffy wondered if the awards were all fakes or if they’d just come with the house.

“We may have to if…” Giles didn’t finish his sentence but Buffy knew what he meant. There weren’t enough of them to fight off a bunch of soldiers.

Xander was watching them nervously from the middle of the hall, a bulky green sack strapped to his back. Both he and Henry were under strict instructions not to jostle the contents of their bags more than necessary. For some reason Xander seemed to translate this into ‘stand around and critique the search effort’. “Hey, Buff?” he started. “Did you check-”

“I checked,” she said curtly, cutting him off. “There’s just floor.”

Giles sighed. “Perhaps we should start taking up the carpet?”

“No, it has to be easier than that. There must be a way for them to get between here and the lab without being seen by the rest of the college.

Xander was posing in front of the giant mirror in the hallway. “Hey, do you think I look more like Rambo or the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket?”

“Xander,” Buffy said in exasperation.

“Boy, these guys must really be concerned about their hair or something,” Xander continued, flexing one arm. “This mirror is crazy big.”

Buffy’s mouth fell open. “Xander, you’re a genius.”

“What?” Xander looked taken aback. “Uh, thanks?”

Buffy moved to stand beside him, eyeing the mirror critically as a few of the others started in their direction. Buffy cast her eyes around, looking for something to cover her fist with, when Spike strode into the hall, followed by the big Fyarl demon. “Hang on there, Slayer. There’s a reason I brought Zuul along even though he’s got marshmallows for brains.”

Buffy nodded gratefully and took a step back as the Fyarl’s fist smashed through the glass and exposed a gaping black hole. Buffy started to smile as Spike peered through the hole. “Elevator shaft,” he said, sounding less than pleased. “Not going to be able to get everyone down there in a hurry.” He turned to the demon and made a few noises Buffy didn’t even realize the human throat could produce. A second later the Fyarl demon was punching through the wall of the hallway at regular intervals, exposing pipes and wiring. Chunks of drywall and wooden planks fell onto the carpet as he continued down the hall.

“What’s he doing?” Buffy asked. Several of the others scrambled to get out of Zuul’s way as he headed in their direction.

“Looking for the stairwell. You know the government would require this shite to be up to code,” Spike said. “Oi! Get your ugly ass back here and check this direction you idiot!” he continued, raising his voice.

Buffy glanced over at him, a smile flitting across her lips. “You’re kind of a smartypants, aren’t you?”

“Don’t go spreading that around.”

Zuul hit something that made a loud clang and stopped, growling loudly. Spike’s smile grew. “He’s found it.” The Fyarl demon was punching a steel door hidden behind some drywall, the noise echoing through the hall.

“Do we need…” Giles started to ask. But Spike had already shooed the big demon away, muttering something about brainless guard dogs, and pulled the door open before taking a step back.

Spike looked over at Buffy and gestured at the doorway. “Slayers first.” Buffy took a deep breath and stepped through the door, pausing for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. Her shoulders tensed at the thought of descending into that hellish pit once more. Spike’s hand brushed against hers. “Right behind you, Slayer,” he murmured in her ear.

Buffy started down, listening to the others file in behind her. So far, so good. Now they just had to put Giles’ plan in motion. She found herself a little ahead of the others, her heart pounding and her brain screaming to get this all done as quickly as possible so they could leave this place and never come back. A footfall behind her had her turning her head. It was one of the other vampires, Cyrus, she recalled. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was him.

“Uh, I don’t like the dark,” he said.

Buffy quirked an eyebrow. “You’re a vampire.”

The vampire made a face. “I didn’t ask to be. It’s not nearly as cool as it is in the movies. Did you know we can’t really read minds or fly or anything?” He sounded dismayed.

Buffy held back an undignified snort. “Yes, I did.”

Cyrus sighed heavily. “It’s kind of boring.”

“I promise today will not be boring.”

“Are you going to stake me? I mean, not right now, but later?” 

Buffy shrugged. “Do you kill humans?”

Cyrus looked confused. “Well yeah, since I have to, you know, drink blood and stuff.”

“Could you stop? Killing, I mean.” There was a short silence. Buffy could hear the others about a flight above them. How deep was this place?

“Uh, I don’t know. Like forever?”

“Yes, forever.”

“That sounds hard.”

“Then I’ll probably have to kill you someday.”

“Even though I’m helping?” Cyrus said in a pitiful whine.

“Sorry, it’s kinda in the job description. You hurt people, I have to stop you.”

“But…” Cyrus trailed off.

“But what?”

“Um, Spike said you’re like…different now.”

“So’s he,” Buffy said softly.

“Oh.” Cyrus sounded glum. “Well, I’ll try.”

Buffy smiled a little. “Good.” They continued in silence. “Listen,” Buffy said, lowering her voice even further. The vampires above them could probably still hear her, but not the humans. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What?” Cyrus sounded eager. “Like a secret mission within a secret mission? A double-secret mission?”

“Exactly.” Buffy wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter. “I need you to watch out for Spike.”

“Uh, Spike’s way scarier than me,” the other vampire said doubtfully.

“That means more people are going to try and attack him, so just…watch his back, got it?” Buffy’s foot abruptly came into contact with solid ground.

“Yes, ma’am.” Cyrus tried to give her a salute and nearly put a finger in his own eye.

Buffy pressed her lips together to maintain a straight face. “Thanks,” she said. The others were coming around the final bend in the staircase. “I’m counting on you.”

***

Spike listened to the discussion behind him. Willow was nervously going over the plan, talking more to herself than the others around her. The vampire could just pick up his Slayer’s voice coming from below them, but the witch’s prattle was drowning most of it out. He wanted so badly to rush ahead and walk with her, but the Watchers were eyeing his team distrustfully and he’d be damned if he made it to the bottom with a lot less backup than he’d promised. He ran his thumb over the band of the Gem on his finger to reassure himself it was still firmly in place.

Spike descended the last of the stairs and shook off his demon face as Buffy came into view. She looked slightly amused as one of the minions fumblingly saluted her. Well, at least the idiot hadn’t gotten himself dusted on the way down. Maybe Cyrus was smarter than he looked.

“All set then?” Spike murmured.

Buffy nodded as the others arranged themselves behind them. Spike reached out and carefully popped the lock on the door handle, catching Buffy’s eye before they entered the one place neither of them had ever wanted to see again. Her jaw was firmly clenched, and he could almost feel the tension coming off of her, but he didn’t smell even the slightest hint of fear. The Slayer was out in full force. Spike wanted to drag her right back up those stairs and do things with her that were probably illegal in several states. Instead, he glared at the demons arrayed behind him and jerked his chin at the door. “Let’s go, gents.”

Their entrance proved to be somewhat anticlimactic. No one paid the slightest attention as they all spilled out of the stairwell. Several white-coats were scurrying around, their noses glued to clipboards, and Spike only counted two military types in the big, open space they’d stepped into. That magic bomb had done a great job emptying the place out.

The Watchers and Harris all hared off immediately, heading in different directions. The witches took longer. Red squeezed her girlfriend’s hand silently while the older ones finished a hushed conversation about contingency plans.

Spike took a moment to survey the area and spotted what looked to be the way to the containment cells, if the big warning signs were any indication. He took one step before he felt a hand on his arm. Buffy was looking at him with wide, serious eyes. “Be careful,” she whispered.

Spike waited for her to follow up that statement with something about not killing or maiming or doing anything that would make this trip worthwhile, but she just stared at him, silent. He felt his heart swell in his chest and couldn’t resist tugging on her ponytail one last time. “See you after, yeah?”

Buffy nodded, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and then she was hurrying away with Red and the white-haired witch. Spike watched her go for a second before heading in the opposite direction. Cyrus was hovering annoyingly at his elbow, but at the least the fledge seemed more alert and willing to fight than he had topside.

“S-Spike?” Red’s girl ventured.

“What?”

“Do you all have enhanced senses like vampires?”

Spike looked around. “They’ve all got better than average. You got a few tricks you want to try?”

Tara nodded. “We didn’t know they’d be here too, but the spells should still work.”

“We’ll deal with whatever you dish out,” Spike said as they passed a large, computerized work station. One of the lab-coats finally looked up and seemed to realize that there was a group of unescorted demons wandering around. The man’s mouth dropped open and he fumbled for something on the console behind him, hitting a large button. Spike snarled and grabbed the scientist by the lapels just as a siren started howling through the room. “I’d get out, if I were you.” He released his hold and the man scrambled away from them, taking off across the large room at a run. Now the humans had been warned, Spike thought with satisfaction. The ones that challenged them from here on out wouldn’t get off so easily. 

Spike glanced around, spotting a heavy-duty grey door. “This way.” Zuul broke through the door just as the first group of soldiers came jogging into view. “We’ve got company.”

The witches started chanting as the group all hurried down a hauntingly familiar white hallway, demons on the other side of the glass walls. The florescent lights dimmed momentarily before coming back, then shutting off completely. Spike grinned as the red emergency lighting flickered to life. The entire hallway was filling with fog, creating an eerie scene, and the soldiers who’d been trying to follow them were no longer in sight. The demons in the cells were beginning to huddle against the glass doorways as the electricity faltered again.

“Brian,” Spike produced the keycard he’d swiped from the white-coat and handed it to the young vampire, watching as the fledge started scrambling down the hall and opening the cage doors. Demons were cautiously entering the hallway, most of them lethargic and sluggish from the steady diet of drugs they’d been fed. Carl was helping Brian, rushing ahead and knocking on the glass to alert the occupants.

“Everybody out!” Spike shouted. Most of the demons were milling about, confused. “Clem?” Clem nodded and let out a loud cry to get everyone’s attention before turning to head back the way they’d come in. Several demons started following him, but others were starting to gather their wits and Spike could see the bloodlust in their eyes. He knew the feeling.

A second alarm started sounding somewhere in the building and the red lights faltered just as all the remaining glass walls slid open of their own accord. Soldiers burst through the door at the other end of the hall and Spike let his demon face emerge. He grinned around his fangs as he headed towards the humans, striding confidently. They couldn’t beat him now, not with the Gem. Spike felt a tiny twinge of guilt as he tossed one of the soldiers aside and the man crumpled soundlessly to the ground, but getting shot with multiple taser blasts immediately afterwards distracted him.

Spike roared as he engaged the solders. Zuul was already down for the count, twitching on the floor. Bob was faring better, but the shock-guns were slowing them all down. The witches did something that made the soldiers fumble and drop their guns in confusion. Spike’s grin turned feral as the army boys all glanced at each other before they whirled around and ran. Spike followed them without hesitation, hearing the pounding footsteps of the other demons behind him.

They all emerged from the maze of now-empty cages back where they’d started. The huge, open room was a lot busier than it had been. Demons and white-coats were running in every direction but at least it looked like they were all too busy getting out to interfere much with one another. The soldiers though, were putting up a fight. There were more of them then they’d anticipated, Spike noticed grimly. He watched a pair of elevator doors slide open and men dressed in fatigues spill out, and realized why.

Some of them were already returning from the decoy site.

Spike growled as he spotted Riley stepping off the elevator. The boy had the nerve to smile when he saw the vampire, directing some of the other army idiots towards Spike’s group of demons. Spike glanced around, but Buffy hadn’t made an appearance yet. She must still be working with Red to disable the computer systems. Spike smirked at the approaching humans. Here was one fight he wasn’t going to hold back for.

Riley was only a few yards away when Spike saw him lob something in their direction. The vampire watched curiously as a small, oblong object, came to rest at his feet. It reminded him of a largish grenade, but it was pulsing with a strange red glow. The witches were chanting loudly, their hands joined as Bob beat a soldier over the head with his own taser-gun beside them. Spike settled his foot on the strange grenade-thing just as it flashed and burst with no effect.

“Ooh,” Spike said mock-sympathetically. “What an embarrassing performance. I hear they make a pill for that now.”

To his surprise, Riley smirked right back at him. “You’re even dumber than you look, Hostile 17.”

Spike snorted just before closing the distance between them and slamming his fist into the boy’s jaw. One of the witches was screaming something but the vampire was too busy at the moment to pay attention. He’d take care of this oversized, self-righteous git first, and then see what the fuss was about. At least, that was Spike’s plan, right before his head was overwhelmed with a sudden, searing pain and he lost the ability to think at all.

The buzzing in his ears subsided just enough for him to catch the sound of Riley barking orders at the other soldiers. The boy’s tone was tight with pain, so at least he’d gotten one good blow in. Spike heard another of the grenade things clanking to the floor in the direction of the witches. The vampire was kneeling on the cement, his throbbing head in his hands and his vision blurry, when the first kick caught him in the ribs. Spike managed to roll away from the second blow, noticing in his confusion that the Gem was still on his finger, right where it should be.

He tried to focus, staggering back to his feet as his demon face melted away. Riley was staring at him in smug satisfaction. The soldier held up one of the glowing grenades. “We got a new consultant after you escaped, 17. Any magic in the vicinity of this gets shut down immediately.”

Spike growled and clenched his fists, wanting to tear the smug look right off the soldier’s face. The vampire surreptitiously checked the chaos erupting around them but there was still no sign of Buffy. He hoped she could get out before this wanker spotted her. In the meantime, Spike would just have to keep him occupied.

“I suppose you have to make up for your inadequacies somehow,” Spike drawled, lifting an eyebrow. “Too bad she‘d never give you the time of day.”

Riley’s expression darkened. “As if I’d touch that whore after what she let you do to her.”

Spike snarled and leapt at him again, hoping maybe the anti-magic effect was temporary. The vampire’s fist barely connected this time before he found himself writhing in pain on the ground at Riley’s feet, clutching his pounding temples. The soldier crouched next to him and casually yanked the ring off the vampire’s finger. “Fuck off,” Spike managed to gasp out. “That’s mine.” It felt like someone was skewering his head with hot pokers.

“And you’re the property of the U.S. government,” Riley said, pocketing the Gem. “But I don’t think anyone’s really going to miss you.”

The soldier’s smile was vicious as he brought the butt of his taser-gun down on the vampire’s chest. Spike felt a few of his ribs crack, and tried to wiggle away, but the soldier seemed to be stronger than a normal human. Riley shoved the vampire back to the ground and stood, lifting a foot and slamming it down onto Spike’s stomach. The vampire doubled up in agony. Riley followed that up with a kick to Spike’s jaw. The vampire could taste blood in his mouth as his vision blurred again. His head was pulsing with pain and the rest of his body was starting to catch up.

Spike saw the witches struggling to pull away from the soldiers restraining them, and Bob was staring sightlessly at him from the ground not far away. Something was howling in agony somewhere behind him before the noise abruptly cut off. He caught sight of a cowering Cyrus curled up under a computer terminal, peeking through his fingers with terrified yellow eyes as though the soldiers wouldn’t find him if the young vampire couldn’t see them. 

Riley paused in his vicious beating and gazed down at Spike, his boot firmly pressing against the vampire’s throat. “Did you really think you were going to win, 17?” the soldier asked snidely. “We’re the good guys, and you’re nothing but a monster that needs to be put down.” The soldier produced a stake from somewhere and Spike stared up at him in disbelief. This couldn’t be how it ended, not for him. He deserved to go out in a blaze of glory, not crushed under the boots of a pathetic human who wasn’t fit to be breathing the same air as his Slayer.

Spike felt a moment of regret that Buffy’s face wouldn’t be the last thing he saw. At least if she’d staked him he could have had that consolation. Someone screamed.


	20. Fire in the Sky

They’d made it to the control center uncontested, Willow and Helen striding along in their lab coats with Buffy trailing after them and keeping an eye out for soldiers. The few people they passed were wearing lab coats too, and only gave them a glance before continuing on their way. Once they were all inside, Willow slipped into computer-geek mode and starting shutting things down as fast a she could while Helen lent a magical hand to speed things along.

Things were going exactly according to plan, and that was making Buffy extremely nervous.

Buffy checked the monitors constantly, seeing Xander and Giles occasionally flash by the cameras as Xander’s sack of goodies got slowly smaller. She was searching for a glimpse of Henry and Robson when a head of bleached blond hair caught her eye. Spike was opening the cells, she saw, watching avidly as the vampire started directing the freed demons toward the exit.

She hated that they’d had to split up, but his team was their best chance at keeping too many people from getting hurt. The original plan had just been to open the cage doors and hope the demons were smart enough to make a run for it. She should have known Spike would make his own plans. She rolled her eyes. And she _would_ have included them, if he’d bothered to share his ideas with her.

Buffy winced as she saw Spike throwing a soldier across the room on the monitors, but after a moment she saw the soldier stir again, so at least he wasn’t dead. Spike was wearing his vampire face, but from what she could tell he wasn’t going for the killing blows, just fighting his way back out of the containment area. Another camera angle caught her eye and she inhaled sharply as soldiers started pouring out the elevator that led up to the frat house.

“They’re coming back,” she said to the witches, alarmed. “The soldiers are back. Why are they back so soon? Shouldn’t the decoy have kept them occupied for a while?”

Helen furrowed her brow and glanced at the monitor Buffy was watching. “Yes, it should have. Perhaps they were ordered back before we managed to shut down communications?”

“We have to hurry, Willow,” Buffy urged.

Willow was typing frantically on the keyboard. “I’m almost done. I’m trying to get through these firewalls so we can figure out what they were going to do with you and-” Willow stopped, wincing, and put a hand to her head. “Oh,” she said in surprise.

“Willow?” Buffy moved closer to her friend, worried.

“We have to go,” Helen said sharply. She, too, had a hand on her temple. “Something’s happened. I’ve lost contact with Frances.”

“Tara?” Willow said frantically, her fingers rubbing her temple. “Tara?”

Buffy stared at the witches in confusion, then turned back to the monitors. It looked like chaos out there, and she didn’t see Spike in any of the images. “What’s happening?”

“Something’s interfering with the magic,” Helen said grimly. “We have to get out of here. Willow, are you done?”

Willow nodded, her face pale. She tucked a few computer disks into the pocket of her lab coat. “Yeah, I’m done.”

Buffy led the way back down the deserted hallway. The siren was still shrieking overhead and the red emergency lighting was casting eerie shadows across their faces. Buffy could feel her heart pounding in her chest as they hurried back out the way they’d come. Spike had the Gem, so he was fine, she told herself. Except hadn’t Helen said something was messing up magic? Buffy picked up her pace, fingering her various weapons for reassurance. She wasn’t going to get trapped down here again and she’d make sure Spike didn’t either.

They burst through the doors into the large open space, finding complete pandemonium. It looked like most of the demons had fled, and the white-coat numbers were dwindling too, but the remaining demons were engaging the soldiers fiercely, fighting like the caged, angry animals they’d been treated as. Buffy took a deep breath. She’d known this could happen. She’d done her best to get the soldiers out of harm’s way, but they’d come back much quicker than she’d anticipated.

“Where are they?” Buffy shouted over the din. There was screaming and roaring and taser blasts coming from every direction. She was fairly sure she even heard gunshots at one point. She looked around, searching for familiar faces, before remembering she wouldn’t be able to focus on them anyways.

“This way,” Helen took off, not waiting to see if they were behind her. She was awfully spry for an older lady. Soldiers took no notice of them as they passed. In the distance, Buffy caught sight of Tara struggling to get away from two soldiers who were holding her arms in a tight grip.

“Tara!” Willow shouted. They all broke into a run.

Buffy shoved a large, fuzzy demon out of her way, causing him to bowl over several soldiers who’d been trying to contain him. “Get out of here!” she shouted at them. The soldiers looked at her in confusion as she sprinted past. Frances too, was being restrained like Tara. Buffy’s eyes were darting around frantically. Where was Spike, hadn’t he been with them? Her heart leapt into her throat as she finally spotted the vampire sprawled on the ground, his coat a black pool against the lighter concrete. Riley was looming over him and the soldier had that same terrible look on his face that she remembered from the day of their escape. Riley was saying something to Spike that she couldn’t make it out over the din. He had a weapon in his hands, but it wasn’t a taser-gun.

It was a stake.

Riley had hauled the vampire up so that Spike was slumped on his knees, his head lolling to the side while the soldier’s grip on his shirt kept him from toppling over. Buffy’s stride faltered as Riley’s arm started to swing down in a perfect arc, straight towards Spike’s chest. A scream tore from her throat, piercing and clear. She tried to move faster but she was too far away. She wasn’t going to make it in time. Riley’s hand didn’t waver.

Buffy heard a distant roaring in her ears as she watched, unable to look away. She’d never thought Spike could dust if she wasn’t going to be the one doing the dusting.

Riley’s entire body jerked to one side just before the stake made contact, and Buffy was filled with a sudden, profound relief. She stumbled again as her legs went wobbly before recovering. Riley was shaking one of his legs, trying to dislodge something, but it didn’t appear to be working. His face was contorted with rage and pain. He dropped Spike to the ground in front of him and the vampire toppled over bonelessly. Buffy was only a couple steps away when the stake came down again, this time behind Riley.

Dust flew into the air just as Buffy’s fist slammed into the side of Riley’s head, sending him soaring away.

She turned, her entire body shaking, and sank to her knees next to Spike, who was looking at her with wide-eyed astonishment. “Spike?” she gasped, trying to recover her breath as she groped for what to say. “What happened? I thought-” She shuddered and reached out, running her hands across his chest to reassure herself he was still there. He winced and struggled to sit up, one arm wrapped around his ribs.

“What happened?” Buffy repeated, her brain stuck on a slow motion repeat of the stake coming down toward him. She helped him sit, one hand on his back, and the other gripping his shirt, her fist guarding his heart.

“Cyrus,” Spike said dazedly. He stared at the spot where Riley had been. “Sank his fangs into the wanker’s ankle just before…” Spike redirected his stare to her. “Just before you got here.”

Buffy felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she tried to smile. “I thought I was too late.” Spike shook his head, his expression still confused. Buffy scrubbed at her face with one hand, keeping her other firmly fisted in the fabric of his shirt. “Where’s the Gem?”

Spike glanced over her shoulder in the direction Riley had flown. “He took it. No good to me anyways, they’ve got some kind of magic-disrupting grenades.”

“What?” Buffy furrowed her brow. “How?”

“No idea, Slayer.”

The noise Buffy hadn’t noticed suddenly swelled in volume. The soldiers were all yelling at one another and trying to regroup. She didn’t see Riley anywhere, but two military guys were jogging towards her. Buffy glared as they approached and started to get up, but they lifted up their empty hands and slowed to a walk.

“Whoa,” Xander’s voice said. He was a lot harder to identify without the bag strapped to his back. “It’s us. I think it’s time to blow this joint.”

Buffy relaxed slightly as she helped Spike to his feet. One of the vampire’s legs didn’t seem to be working quite right. “Is it broken?” she asked quietly, as Spike leaned heavily into her with one arm around her shoulders.

He shook his head. “Don’t think so, just a sprain, maybe.”

The witches were all standing nearby, watching her, she realized. Willow and Tara’s hands were entwined and Tara’s expression was soft and sympathetic. Helen was staring at her and the vampire with undisguised curiosity as she supported a fragile-looking Frances. “Is everyone else okay?” Buffy asked a bit belatedly.

Willow nodded, her eyes wide. “The other guys kind of scattered after you…uh, after you dealt with Riley.”  

Buffy wondered if she should feel worse about that, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the slightest. She glanced down at the vampire dust spread under her feet. That could have been Spike, she thought, bile rising in the back of her throat. The arm she had around his waist tightened for a moment. She spotted something else in the dust. “Hey!” Spike looked at her in confusion as she pointed at the ground. “That’s my stake!” She put one hand on her hip. “He was going to dust you with _my_ stake!”

Spike’s lips quirked up slightly and she could feel his hand reach up behind her to tug on her ponytail as Xander scooped up the stake and offered it to her. Buffy tucked Mr. Pointy into its usual spot in her waistband. Well, at least she got one thing back from The Initiative. She glanced at Spike and mentally upped the count to two. She carefully gripped his shirt again so she was covering his heart. Spike’s hand came up for a moment to caress her knuckles.

“Where the hell are the others?” Giles asked in concern, peering across the room. The soldiers seemed to be in full retreat, hustling the remaining white-coats out ahead of them as they headed toward the exits.

“Did you see her?” she asked Spike in an undertone. He shook his head. She frowned. “Me neither.”

“Spike,” Giles said urgently. “Did you come across Ethan?”

The vampire frowned, his weight sagging onto Buffy. “No idea, Watcher. Never met the bloke.”

Giles looked around in concern. “We found another experiment, once Willow unlocked all the doors.” He glanced at Buffy sympathetically. “It looked like it might have been one of the soldiers, once, but they were halfway through replacing his limbs with demon ones.”

Spike let out a low growl. “I told you that bitch was crazy,” the vampire hissed. His hand curled around the back of Buffy’s neck protectively. “Should kill her for what she did to my Slayer.”

Buffy rubbed the spot over his heart soothingly. “We’re shutting it all down, Spike.” The vampire grumbled quietly but didn’t say anything more.

“Xander left one of the devices with the…corpse,” Giles said. “It will be destroyed.”

Buffy nodded as one soldier broke away from a small group and headed towards them. The man was limping and cradling one arm protectively, blood smeared across the front of his uniform. “We have to go,” the man said.

“Robson?” Giles frowned. “Where’s Henry?”

Robson just shook his head. “They shot him. I had to do a manual reset on the last device. Five minutes was the longest I could give us.”

Giles looked alarmed and began herding the witches toward the door they’d entered through. Buffy bit her lip nervously at the thought of Spike making it up all those stairs. She eyed the elevator for a moment before starting towards it. “Where we headed, pet?” Spike murmured.

“We need to move faster,” Buffy said. “Giles, the elevator’s still down here.”

Her Watcher looked at it distrustfully for a moment before nodding his head. They all piled through the doors in record time, and the trip up was surprisingly uneventful. Buffy saw some keyed panels in the walls they didn’t seem to be working. She glanced at Helen. The older witch had her eyes closed and was whispering something under her breath. Willow was watching her devotedly, one arm around Tara. Xander was supporting Frances as Giles and Robson muttered at each other in one corner.

Buffy felt a flood of guilt at the thought of Henry and clutched Spike a little tighter. “What about yours?” she asked the vampire quietly.

Spike shook his head. “Clem took a group of demons out, and Carl too. The others are gone.”

Buffy buried her face against his shoulder, taking deep slow breaths. They’d lost more than she expected and it made her feel like a failure, even if they had technically won. The smell embedded in the leather of his jacket helped her refocus. “I’m sorry.”

She felt Spike shrug. “Knew it could happen, kitten.”

Buffy’s hand tightened on his shirt. “Oh.”

She felt him lean a little more into her, his other hand sliding down her back. “Had to be done. They knew what the risks were.” Buffy nodded.

The elevator doors opened and they all exited, a lot worse for wear than when they’d first set foot in the frat house. It was still deserted, the hallway littered with glass and building materials. They were halfway to the front door when the entire building started to shake.

“Move,” Giles said harshly, grasping Robson’s arm and helping the other man along. The witches tumbled out into the night, followed by the others. The floor shook again, longer this time, as Buffy finally managed to drag Spike through the door. It wasn’t just the house, Buffy realized as they crossed the lawn, the ground itself was shaking. A low, continuous rumbling reached her ears.

“What kind of explosives did you make?” Buffy asked in awe.

“Big ones,” Giles said shortly.

Spike chuckled. “Good.”

They all managed to pile into one van, abandoning the other. Everyone was too exhausted and shaken to care. Buffy ended up in back with the vampire’s head propped against her shoulder. His face showed signs of strain as he tried to keep his broken ribs from being jostled too much. Buffy held him as tightly as she dared.

As they passed by the frat house the front door swung open and several soldiers spilled out, trying to avoid the bricks falling off the façade. They didn’t even glance at the van as it drove by. Buffy watched in satisfaction as the roof of the house crumpled and sagged.

“We did it,” she whispered quietly in the vampire’s ear. “It’s gone.”

Spike gave her the ghost of a smile, his eyes nearly closed. “Told you I wouldn’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Buffy suppressed a smile. “I think it was kind of a group effort.”               

Spike snorted. “Yeah, all right. Some of the others might have helped.”

“Hey!” Xander’s head popped up from the back row of seats. “I don’t remember you strapping a boatload of explosives to your back, mister.”

Spike smirked at him. “Thanks for the assist, Harris.”

“Assist?” Xander repeated in disbelief, shaking his head. “Oh, no way, dead boy. You were the assistant.”

“Oi!” Spike lifted his head to glare weakly at Xander as Buffy rolled her eyes.

She patted Spike’s arm. “You were both very helpful.”

Xander nodded haughtily and returned to his seat as the vampire curled a hand into her ponytail, muttering insults under his breath. This time Buffy didn’t bother to hide her smile.

***

The news was showing overhead footage of the new crater at the edge of the UC Sunnydale campus. It had swallowed half of the frat house and all of the backyard. Experts were blaming it on a minor earthquake and karst topography.

“Same thing happened, when was that? Last September?” said a middle-aged man wearing a shirt with a logo on the front the TV channel had to blur out. “Some huge *bleep*-ing hole took out half the street. Remember that?” he called over his shoulder. An indistinct voice said something. The man shrugged. “California, man.”

Buffy was leaning against the doorway of the living room, a mug of heated blood in her hands. Giles had gone home, taking a shaken Robson and the older witches with him. Willow and Tara were huddled on the couch and Xander and Anya were sharing an oversized chair. For some reason, Lydia had also stayed. Buffy’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling. Well, she could guess the reason, but Lydia wasn’t getting anywhere near Spike if Buffy had anything to say about it.

“That’s it?” Buffy said in disbelief. “An earthquake? Nothing about the soldiers or the scientist people or the helicopters?” They’d been halfway between the campus and her house when a bevy of black helicopters had buzzed past the van, heading straight for what remained of The Initiative.

“Apparently they’re saying the National Guard came out to help with the evacuations,” Xander replied. “Sunnydale denial at its finest.”

They was still trying to interview the guy in the obscene shirt on TV, but he’d gotten distracted by the cute field reporter and eventually the channel cut back to the newscasters in the studio to spare their viewing audience any more of his crude innuendos.

“I’d better get this upstairs,” Buffy pushed herself upright.

Lydia sat up in the chair she’d claimed, suddenly more alert. “Is he available to speak to? I’ve brought my tape recorder and things. It really would be helpful, you know, for the Council archives, since he’s such a remarkable specimen and-”

“No,” Buffy cut in. “He’s not. Probably ever.”

Lydia slumped back again, looking disappointed.

Tara looked over, a tiny smile on her face. “How is he?”

“He’s been worse.” Buffy lifted one shoulder. “I think he’s mostly upset about losing the Gem.”

 Xander snorted but wisely didn’t say anything further. Anya nodded seriously. “Yes, I understand how difficult it is to go from being omnipotent to not being able to kill anything at all. Please pass along my condolences.” Buffy lifted her eyebrows at Xander, who was looking askance as his girlfriend. Willow sighed heavily but subsided at a glance from Tara.

Buffy smiled and headed for the stairs.

She was careful not to spill the full mug of blood as she climbed, the chatter from the living room fading into the distance. Xander had promised to drive everyone home later, after they ‘celebrated’, but Buffy suspected he was mostly putting off going back to his parents’ basement. Not that she blamed him. Buffy managed to make it to her room without losing a drop when she stopped short in the doorway.

“Spike!” She scowled at the vampire who was sitting up on her bed and trying to tape up his own ribs, wincing every time he moved. “I told you I’d help when I got back.”

“Don’t need help,” Spike groused, letting out a hiss of pain as he reached behind his back for the tape.

Buffy rolled her eyes and thrust the mug at him. “Here. Now stop whining and let me help you.”

Spike accepted the mug of blood and looked up at her, still frowning. “Is it pig’s?”

“That’s all we have in the house right now. Drink it.”

Spike sighed heavily but gulped some down, making a disgusted face as Buffy took over wrapping his bare chest. The bruises were starting to show on his pale skin, perfect half-moons from boot heels appearing on his chest and back. There was a lump of swollen purple on his jaw as well. Buffy eyed it sympathetically while she taped up his torso.

When she was finished she reached up and swept her thumb over his bruised face. “Do you want some ice for this?”

Spike handed her back the mug, some of the tension finally leaving his face. “Blood’ll heal it soon enough.”

Buffy set the mug on her night stand and gently pushed him back against the pillows of her bed. Spike smirked at her as she started undoing the button and zip of his jeans. “I need to check on your leg,” she said primly.

“Could check some other things while you’re down there,” Spike said hopefully. Buffy ignored him, fighting a smile as she stripped off his jeans. His injured calf was swollen and starting to bruise, but nothing had broken through the skin, so there wasn’t much for her to patch. She spent a moment winding some tape around that too.

“You’ll live,” she pronounced. She crawled up the bed and straddled his hips, looking down at him. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Spike looked confused. “Do what?”

Buffy was tempted to smack him, but he had enough bruises as it was. “You are not allowed to dust,” she said sternly.

Spike stared up at her, lifting one hand up to slide through her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders. His captivated expression made her breath catch in her throat. “Sorry, love, won’t happen again.”

“Good.” Buffy leaned down and kissed him softly but firmly, her hands cradling his face. She’d thought her heart might have stopped for a moment when she’d almost lost him down there. Spike started to pull her down onto the bed with him but she wouldn’t let him, breaking the kiss and sitting up again. “You need to sleep.”

Spike looked dismayed. “Alone?”

“You can hardly move!”

“Good thing you already took off my clothes.” Spike waggled his eyebrows at her. 

“To check for injuries,” Buffy said sternly.

“I’ll just lay here and let you do all the work,” He suggested.

“There are people downstairs!”

“You’re a tease, Slayer.” Spike was back to scowling.

Buffy shook her head at him, fighting a smile. “Be good.”

“Hello, I’m a vampire?” Spike rolled his eyes and started to cross his arms over his chest before thinking better of it, flinching slightly as he settled them back at his sides. “Well, I was a vampire,” he grumbled, looking unhappily down at his bruises. “Now I’ve got this sodding chip and no Gem to counteract it.”

Buffy patted the least-bruised spot she could find, up near his shoulder. “We’ll figure something out, okay?” She hesitated. “Is it really so bad?”

“So bad?” Spike said in disbelief. “Slayer, I can’t _fight_! What if you…” he trailed off and turned his head to avoid meeting her eyes.

“Spike.” Buffy reached out and put her hand on his uninjured cheek, waiting until he was facing her again. “Ri…they said the chip was to keep you from hurting humans and you had it when you dusted those vampires, remember? Maybe it doesn’t work on demons.”

Spike looked less than convinced. “Not really seeing the positives here.”

Buffy chewed on her lower lip for a moment, contemplating the vampire under her. There was so much she wanted to say to him, and so much she couldn’t figure out how to say. “You could help,” she suggested tentatively. “Me, I mean, if you wanted to, you know, stay?”

Spike tilted his head, contemplating her. “Is that what you want?”

Buffy felt her heart constrict. “Only if you want to,” she said nervously. “You don’t-”

Spike cut her off, yanking her back down to kiss her thoroughly. She barely caught herself in time, squeaking as she stopped her descent an inch from his injured ribs. “Careful,” she gasped. “You’re hurt.”

Spike’s hands were tangled in her hair as he nibbled his way down her throat with blunt teeth. “You’ll just have to take care of me then, won’t you, Florence?” Buffy giggled and hovered over him on her hands as knees as his busy fingers started pulling up her shirt.

“You’re impossible.”

“Lucky you,” Spike replied. “Now start tending to your poor, helpless patient.”

Buffy kissed the tip of his nose and climbed off the bed, dragging a comforter over him. “Let me get rid of everybody first. Oh, and Anya says she’s sorry about you no longer being arm-potent or something.”

“Omnipotent?” Spike looked amused. “Knew I liked that one. Too bad about that useless wanker she’s dating.”

Buffy shot him an exasperated look. “Xander is not useless. Now get to healing, mister. I’ll bring you some more blood in a little bit.”

“Can you put some hot sauce in it?” Spike asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Buffy picked up the mug.

“And maybe I could have a straw?”

Buffy paused for a moment. “If I can find one, sure.”

“And can you serve it naked?”

“Spike!”

“What? I’m _injured_ , pet.”

Buffy turned to hide her smile and headed for the bedroom door. “We’ll see,” she tossed over her shoulder. Maybe he was kind of impossible, but she was pretty sure she wouldn’t want it any other way.


	21. I Just Want You

“Buffy?”

The voice wasn’t familiar, but when Buffy turned she found herself suppressing a groan. Great, here was another annoyance she’d managed to forget about while she was gone. “Megan?” Buffy pasted a smile on her face and waited for the other girl to catch up to her in the hall of their dorm. Damn, two steps from her room, too. Megan had the absolute worst timing.

“Oh my god, it _is_ you! I thought you’d dropped out.”

Buffy blinked at this virtual stranger who was, apparently, keeping tabs on her comings and goings. “Uh, no, I just…had a family emergency.”

“Oh.” Megan looked vaguely disappointed.

“Was there something you wanted?” Buffy asked, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Um, no!” Megan’s smile was bright and practiced. “It’s just, we haven’t seen your friend around either and some of the girls thought maybe…” Megan’s voice trailed off as her eyes widened. Her mouth was still open like she had more to say. “Uh…”

Buffy waited, a small frown forming. “Maybe what?”

“Hey.” A hand tugged a lock of her hair as Spike’s low voice greeted her and Buffy realized a bit belatedly that her vampire tinglies were going off. She glanced over her shoulder before lifting her eyebrows and turning fully.

“Is that my robe?”

Spike looked down and shrugged. “Figured I’d have a wash before you got back.” His hair was still wet and tousled from the shower, and Buffy’s new rose-colored satin robe was just barely long enough to keep him from being arrested. He’d tied a knot in the belt, but hadn’t bothered to completely close the top part, exposing his pale chest. Buffy was sure it didn’t look that obscene on her.

She lifted the bag in her hand. “I brought dinner.” Spike’s eyes lit up.

“Uh,” Megan’s mouth was still hanging open. “Hi, Spike.” The other girl giggled and looked like she might be having a convulsion, her eyelashes were fluttering so rapidly.

Spike frowned at her. “Sorry, do I know you?” 

Megan’s mouth turned down for a split second, but she rallied quickly. “Of course, silly! I was the sexy hula girl on Halloween, remember? We went to that party together?”

Spike contemplated her before shaking his head. “Nope, not ringing a bell.”

Megan was starting to look miffed. “The party where someone slipped ecstasy in the punch and everyone had those wild hallucinations?”

“Oh.” Spike frowned. “You were there? Must not have made an impression.” He shrugged and half-heartedly toweled his hair for a second. The robe rode up dangerously and Buffy opened the door to her room, shoving him in before he could flash her whole dorm.

“Well, nice seeing you,” Buffy said insincerely to Megan. The other girl was glaring at the door Spike had disappeared through.

“Your boyfriend’s an asshole,” Megan announced before spinning and marching down the hall.

Buffy watched her go, amused. “Yeah, he kinda is.”

“I can hear you!” Spike shouted from inside.

Buffy shook her head and entered her room, dropping the blood and two boxes of chicken wings on her desk. Spike was still drying his hair, unperturbed. “You’re supposed to keep a low profile, remember? You don’t actually live here.”

“Maybe Red could just add me to the registration, like how she fixed up your grades and things from last semester?”

Buffy watched the robe inch even higher on his thighs as she draped her cute new raincoat over her desk chair and toed off her soaking shoes. “I thought you were looking for a crypt or something?”

Spike carelessly dropped his towel on the floor and prowled closer to her, his fingers reaching out to twist a bit of her damp hair. “Still raining outside, kitten?” Buffy nodded as her hands strayed to the knot he’d tied in the robe. It came apart quickly in her hands. Spike smirked at her as she slid her hands down his bare torso. “You need some help getting out of those wet clothes?”

Buffy smiled coyly. “I might catch something otherwise.”

Spike growled and pulled her closer, his hands seeking out the warm skin under her sweater as Buffy hastily yanked it off over her head. His lips were all over, on her mouth, her neck, her shoulders. His hands stroked her belly, his fingers tracing the barely-there scars that The Initiative had left. They were faded silver lines now. Her abdomen twitched under his hands. 

His hands fumbled at the waistband of her jeans for a moment before he got them open, shoving them down. Spike spun them both around and pinned her against the wall with his hands. “I suppose you expect me to warm you up?” he murmured, his mouth close to her ear.

Buffy whimpered as his fingers slipped into her panties and unerringly found her needy clit, rubbing slow circles. “Yes, please.” She moaned as his fingers explored her before sliding her panties down to her knees. The feel of the fabric rasping against the growing hair between her legs made her shiver.

“Only been here a few days, pet. You tired of me already?”

Buffy finally freed her legs from the confines of her clothing and yanked him against her, shoving the bathrobe off his shoulders so she had access to all of his glorious skin. There were only faint, yellowing bruises left on his chest to remind her of how close she’d come to losing him. “Someone’s eventually going to notice you don’t actually go to school here, especially if you keep wandering around mostly naked.” 

Spike chucked against her collarbone. “Little Megan wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the show, eh?”

Buffy shoved him back far enough to glare at him. “You give her any more shows like that and you’ll be all kinds of dusty, mister.”

Spike grinned before pinning her against the wall again, this time with his entire body. His cock was hard and ready against her hip as he bent to kiss her, his tongue sweeping through her mouth before he lifted her slightly, making her balance on her tiptoes. “You know you’re the only girl for me, kitten,” he whispered.

Buffy hummed her satisfaction against the thin skin of his throat, sucking it into her mouth and biting down just hard enough that she knew it would bruise. He loved it when she marked him, and maybe it would make that Megan skank think twice about ogling him in the hall. Lydia was bad enough, having postponed returning to England in order to conduct some “research” which for some reason always involved Spike. “Don’t you forget it,” Buffy said fiercely, pulling back from the red spot on his throat.

Spike chuckled as he trapped her against the wall, his fingers massaging her clit as he eased her legs further apart. Buffy lifted one leg to wrap around his hip as he removed his fingers, grasping his cock and guiding it to her entrance. “No,” he gasped as he pushed inside of her, one hand gripping her ass and the other braced against the wall. “Never, love.”

Buffy let out a sigh and leaned her head back, her eyes falling closed as he stilled for a moment, letting her get used to the invasion. She could feel him kissing her face as he slowly stared moving, both his hands supporting her now as she wrapped her other leg around his hip and her arms wound around his neck. “Spike,” she breathed.

He started moving faster, pounding her against the wall as she held on tightly, her voice rising as her orgasm built low in her belly. Spike’s face was buried against her neck and she could feel his demon ridges as his face changed, his fangs scraping against her skin and making her clutch him tighter. She loved it when he lost control, how she didn’t have to hold back with him.

Spike was snarling, his hips slamming against hers as Buffy’s climax washed through her. She wailed his name as she tipped over the edge, his fingers biting into her ass so tightly she knew they’d leave bruises. She wondered if his chip ever hurt him when they were together like this. He never mentioned it. Spike groaned his own release a minute later, and his movements finally slowed and stilled. His cock was still buried inside her as they propped themselves up against the wall. His chest was rising and falling in time with her own rapid breathing.

He lifted his head from her shoulder, his eyes clear and blue again. “Warmer?” he rasped.

Buffy kissed him softly, tightening her arms and legs around him. “I think I might still be a little cold.” 

“Minx,” Spike growled against her lips. He spun them around before sinking to the floor and laying her down with a gentleness that surprised her. She suspected that sometimes there more William left in him than he was willing to admit.

Buffy giggled and tightened her arms around his neck as she stared up at his face. He gazed down at her, his expression one of smug satisfaction. A part of her wondered if Professor Walsh hadn’t been a teensy bit right about Slayers needing a partner who was more than human. “Spike?”

“Hm?” He started nibbling on her throat again with blunt teeth.

“What if…” she hesitated, wondering if she was crazy for even bringing this up.

“What if…?” Spike prompted, lifting his head and arching one eyebrow at her. He propped himself up on a forearm while his other hand strayed down to stoke her belly.

“What if it’d worked?”

Spike’s hand stilled on her stomach and his smirk slipped off his face. “What worked, love?”

“You know,” Buffy said nervously. “The…experiments.”

Spike furrowed his brow, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you telling me-”

“No!” Buffy said quickly. “No, I’m not…no, Spike. I just was thinking about it, that’s all. Totally a hypothetical question.”

“Oh.” Spike’s face fell.

 Buffy’s eyes widened. “You’d…would you be okay with that?”

Spike’s hands slid into her hair as he braced himself over her on his elbows. “Be amazing, wouldn’t it? Never thought I’d have any sprogs of my own.” He kissed her briefly. “Bet she’d be as pretty as her mother.”

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh,” she breathed, berating herself for sounding so lame. Spike leaned in and nuzzled her temple. “Um, that’s…really?”

Spike pulled back again, looking concerned. “You wouldn’t?”

Buffy blinked at him. “Well, I’ve never really, uh, considered it before? I mean, Chosen One here, we’re not really known for living that long.”

Spike frowned down at her. “You’re not going anywhere, kitten, not for a long, long time.”

Buffy felt a slow smile spread across her face. “You think so, huh?”

Spike’s smirk made a comeback. “Got me to watch your back, yeah?”

She cupped his face in her hands and stared up at him. “Spike, I-”

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted her and Spike glanced over, annoyed. “Let it ring.” He lowered his head to hers and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

“Buffy?” The voice on the answering machine was tinny but Buffy still recognized it as Willow’s. “Buffy, you have to come quick. I’m with Tara in the lounge and there’s something weird here.” There was an abrupt click as Willow hung up.

Buffy pushed Spike back regretfully and put up a hand to stop him as the vampire started to protest. “We have to go check, what if it’s something that we set loose from The Initiative?”

Spike shrugged even as he let her roll them over and pull away from him. She kissed him quickly once more before standing up. Her whole body was still buzzing from their tryst against the wall. She pictured them doing the same thing against a mausoleum and shivered. Maybe she’d wear a skirt to patrol in tonight.

“If it is,” Spike drawled, tucking one hand behind his head and making no move to get up. “It’s probably chipped or one-armed or something. Why can’t the witches take care of it?”

Buffy stood contemplatively in front of her closet before finding a cute skirt that was both warm and loose enough for a high kick. “Maybe it’s something new?” She was brushing her hair by the time Spike finally got up off the floor, but he was still ready before she was. He pulled open the door for her and they both headed downstairs. The vampire occasionally reached out to run a hand through the ends of her hair as she walked beside him. Buffy pulled a stake from her waistband just before she cautiously entered the lounge, but it appeared to be deserted.

Spike entered right behind her. “Slayer,” he started to say.

“Surprise!” Willow popped up from behind a couch along with Tara and several other familiar faces. Buffy jumped, her hand tightening on her stake as Spike unobtrusively steadied her.

“Everything’s fine,” he rumbled in her ear as her heart hammered away in her chest.

“Um, Happy Birthday?” Willow said, her smile faltering as Buffy caught her breath.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “This is for me?” She turned to Spike. “It’s my birthday!” Spike smiled down at her affectionately before stepping back, his expression turning wary as he took in everyone in the room.

“Uh, looks like. Maybe I’ll just…” Spike hooked a thumb over his shoulder and took another step towards the door as Buffy rolled her eyes and captured his wrist in a firm grip, dragging him further into the lounge with her.

“Giles!” Buffy spotted her Watcher hovering in the background, looking slightly uncomfortable.

Giles glanced at Spike, the edges of his mouth momentarily turning down, before refocusing his attention to Buffy. “Hello, my dear.”

“It’s good to see you.” Buffy bit her lip and glanced at the vampire next to her, who was apparently going to go along with Giles’ plan to pretend they weren’t in the same room together. She nudged Spike’s ribs with her elbow and he scowled down at her. “How’s your friend doing, Giles?”

Giles’ expression turned serious. “Robson’s been making some inquiries about who was funding The Initiative, but apparently the whole thing was very hush hush and so far his contacts haven’t turned up very much.”

Spike finally looked directly at Giles. “Tell me they’re not coming back to Sunnyhell, Watcher.”

Giles frowned thoughtfully. “It certainly doesn’t appear so. Willow’s still trying to sort through the information she gathered during the raid, but it looks like they were fairly independent, so there’s nowhere for them to regroup. They’d have to start from scratch.”

“Do you think they will?” Buffy’s fingers tightened around the vampire’s wrist and Spike winced a little, shaking off her grip and sliding their palms together instead.

“Nah,” Spike said with confidence. “After what we pulled they’ve got nothing to show for all the money they sank into that place. Doubt they’ll try again.”

Giles’ eyes flickered between Spike and Buffy for a moment before he spoke. “Quite right,” he finally said a bit stiffly. Buffy raised her eyebrows, looking at both men as they shifted uncomfortably. At least they agreed on something, she decided.

“Need a drink,” Spike muttered, squeezing Buffy’s hand one more time before wandering towards the refreshments and glaring at the innocuous beverages being served.

Giles crossed his arms, watching with Buffy as the vampire sniffed the punch and made a disappointed face. “Buffy,” Giles said after a moment. “Are you sure-”

“It’s my birthday, Giles,” Buffy interrupted. “I don’t want to argue.” She studiously avoided looking over towards the bulletin board, where a homemade Happy Birthday sign wasn’t quite covering what remained of the memorial for Parker. That had been before everything had happened, and Spike had more than proven that he wouldn’t do that ever again. 

Giles sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly. “But…”

“He’s staying,” Buffy said firmly.

Giles pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine,” he said irritably. “But I certainly hope you know what you’re getting into. He may have that chip, but that doesn’t change what he is.”

Buffy shrugged. “That’s pretty much my point.”

Giles looked at her askance before sighing again. “Yes, well, I suppose we’ll see.”

“You will,” Buffy looked around the room, a smile slowly blooming on her face. Lydia had managed to corner Spike and the vampire was looking increasingly uncomfortable as the woman chattered animatedly at him, her eyes bright and eager. Xander was coaching Anya through the etiquette of birthdays while Anya stubbornly refused to let go of the wrapped package in her hands and Tara was standing quietly next to the refreshments, watching them all.

Willow came over with extra cups of punch for Buffy and Giles. “Happy birthday,” Willow tentatively offered again, glancing at Giles.

Her Watcher seemed to shake himself, accepting a cup from Willow and attempting a smile. “Yes, of course. We’re here to celebrate. We can talk another time.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and exchanged an amused glance with Willow. The redhead relaxed and leaned in, impulsively giving Buffy a one-armed hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Buffy replied lightly. “Especially because I heard there’s cake.”

Giles shook his head and lifted his cup, clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention. “To Buffy. We can’t tell you how good it is to have you back. Happy birthday.”

“Hear, hear!” Xander cheered, lifting his own drink. The rest of her friends followed suit even as Buffy’s eyes strayed back to the vampire across the room, who was watching her just as closely.

As far as Slayer birthdays went, this was probably the best so far. No one was a zombie, no severed arms had tried to kill her, and everyone who was supposed to have a soul still had one. Plus, Willow had confirmed the presence of cake. Maybe the Powers had decided that Buffy deserved a nice, normal day for once. Not that her life was even remotely normal, although she was starting to think maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Spike made his way back to her side and bent down so his mouth was next to her ear. “Didn’t get you anything yet, sorry, love.”

Buffy looked up at him affectionately. “I didn’t even realize it was my birthday. I think you’re forgiven.”

Spike grinned at her and brushed a kiss across her lips. “Won’t happen again.”

“Good to know.” Buffy caught sight of Xander seemingly debating with himself whether or not to approach her before her friend nodded firmly and headed their way. He made more noise than strictly necessary as he crossed the room with a determined expression and a plate in his hand.

Spike sighed in her ear. “Please tell me we’re going to go kill something after this,” he muttered. Buffy felt him twist a hand into her hair at the nape of her neck, making her scalp tingle as she nodded and hid a smile in her cup of punch.

“Cake?” Xander said loudly, He rolled his eyes at Spike but just handed Buffy a piece of cake before heading off to attempt to get another present out of Anya’s hands.

Giles might grumble at Spike’s new role in her life, and the Watcher’s Council would most likely have a conniption fit, but she knew she was right about this. Eventually they would see it, too. She knew for sure that her vampire pretty much defied all their stuffy, careful research. Maybe she could help Giles rewrite the Slayer handbook, and throw in a little bit about a feather-and-holy-water ritual.

Hey, a girl could dream.

***

It took the rescue team almost a week to dig them out. Ethan had been the very vocal about his displeasure at being stuck in the small space with its increasingly stale air, but Maggie knew how to be patient. After all, she still had everything she needed to succeed, even if this particular lab had come down around her ears.

At first she’d considered knocking Ethan out with a dose of the tranquilizer she’d perfecting using Subject A’s reactions, but by all accounts the man was as frail as any human and his abilities were too valuable to lose. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Let him think he was working with her of his own free will. He’d find out soon enough who was in charge if he ever tried to leave without permission. She’d taken the precaution of having a tracker implanted in this one immediately, and was careful to refer to him only as Subject B in her notes.

A few hours ago one of the workers outside their confines had dropped a secure phone through the rapidly widening hole and Maggie had been gratified to hear that, given what she’d discovered, her funding would be rerouted to another facility of her choosing. The General hadn’t been pleased to hear that their top-secret lab had been brought down by a ragtag bunch of Hostiles led by her escaped pet project, but to Maggie it had been entirely worth it.

She carefully counted her vials one last time, peering at them through the clear glass top of the one cold storage unit she had left. She knew making this hidden lab section with its separate electrical grid would pay off in the long run, even if the government contractor had thought she was being exceptionally paranoid.

The moment their rescuers had gotten the hole big enough, Maggie was through it with her precious cargo. Even Ethan hadn’t questioned the need for it to be out first. She’d piqued his curiosity during the long conversations they’d had while waiting to be extricated, eating MRE’s and sleeping on uncomfortable gurneys. He claimed he could help her with the vampire’s dead DNA problem, and while she didn’t trust the man further than she could throw him, he had helped to create those wonderful anti-magic devices. She’d made sure to keep a couple for her personal use, just in case Ethan developed more grandiose aspirations. He seemed the type.

As one of the team members rushed her to a nearby unmarked, black helicopter, she caught sight of a few familiar faces. Gates had made it then, and Miller. “Where’s Riley?” she yelled over the whir of the blades.

Miller looked worried for a split second. Maggie never had been able to knock that last bit of sensitivity out of him, although Gates had progressed nicely.  “He’s in the medical bay. They’re not sure he’s going to make it. He was in pretty bad shape.”

She frowned. “Tell them I’ll take his case.”

Miller looked puzzled. “But-”

“That’ll be all, Miller,” Maggie cut him off and climbed into the waiting transport with Ethan and her cooler full of incredible potential. She looked down as the helicopter lifted into the air, staring at the crater her former lab had become. It didn’t matter now, none of it did. She was holding the future of modern warfare in her hands. This was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed the ride.


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